'round an' 'round at a pace that'd make your eyes stick out so far you could see your sins. Old Boomerang is sh.o.r.e some eevanescent! When that Turner person shakes the reins an' yells 'Skoot!' you could hear him whizz. On sech occasions he's nothin' short of a four-laigged meteor, an' looks forty feet long pa.s.sin' a given p'int.

"The big drawback is that thar ain't no quadrooped anywhar about to race Boomerang ag'inst. Leastwise, we don't hear of none for goin' on some months, an' when we do it's as far away as Albuquerque. Some consumptive tenderfoot, it looks like, has got a trottin' hoss over some'ers between Albuquerque an' Socorro, sech at least is the word which comes to us.

"When this pulmonary sport hears of Boomerang, which he does by virchoo of the overblown boastin's of the Turner person, he announces that his hoss, Toobercloses, can beat him for money, marbles or chalk.

Then comes a season of bluff an' counter-bluff, the pulmonary party insistin' 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 sh.o.r.e took Boomerang, an' gone romancin' off to Albuquerque, lookin' for that weak-lunged reprobate an' his hoss, only sent'ment is plumb ag'inst it. We-all don't propose to lose the camp the advantages of that contest, an' so to put an eend to discussion, we urges upon the Turner person that we-all'll sh.o.r.e kill him if he tries. This yere firmness gives us the pref'rence over Albuquerque, an' the pulmonary sport allows 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 concert pitch over the comin' race between Boomerang an' Toobercloses, the long-hoped for comes to pa.s.s an' the Turner person, as fooneral director, receives his 'nitial call. Over in Red Dog is a party named Holt. He ain't standin' none too high, him havin' married a Mexican woman, an' even them Red Dogs has the se'f-respect to draw the social line at Mexicans. One sun-up, however, she goes trapesin' across the line to visit her people down near Casa Grande, an' she never does come back. It looks like she's got enough of old Holt, which to gents who 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 with her as is preyin' on Armstrong's uncle. When she breaks out of the corral an' goes stampedin' off to her tribe, she leaves behind mebby it's a hundred bottles or more of patent med'cine, rangin' all the way from arnica to ha'r dye.

"Followin' her flight that a-way old Holt goes to takin' an account of stock by way of seein' what she cabbages an' what she leaves, an' the first flash he blunders upon this yere bushel or so of drugs. He's too froogal to throw 'em away, old Holt is, bein' plumb pars'monious that a-way, an' after revolvin' the play in his mind for a spell, he ups an' swallows 'em to save 'em.

"No one ever does figger out jest what individyooal med'cine b.u.mps old Holt off that time, an' thar's no sayin' whether it's the arnica or the ha'r dye or some other deecoction, or simply the whole clan-jamfrey in comb'nation. Not that any gent goes to reely delvin'

for the trooth, the gen'ral interest pitchin' camp contentedly on the simple fact that old Holt's been sh.o.r.e put over the jump. Doc Peets? Old Holt's packed in before the Doc's half way to Red Dog.

Sh.o.r.e; some of them bottled med'cines is as ack'rate an' as full of action as a six-shooter.

"Of course we-all is pleased to think the Turner person, as fooneral director, ain't been born to bloom onseen, but the rift in the floote is 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't goin' to get a look in.

"It's at pinches sech as this that Enright shows his genius for leadership. While all of us is lookin' bloo, to see how Red Dog beats us to it for our own hea.r.s.e, our fertile old war chief is ribbin' up a game for pop'lar relief.

"The Red Dog del'gation, headed by the Red Dog chief, comes over to round up the Turner person an' his hea.r.s.e to entomb old Holt. At their showin' up Enright begins to onkiver his diplomacy.

"'Which we symp'thizes with you-all in your bereevement, gents,' says he to the Red Dog bunch, 'but it's ag'inst our rooles for this yere hea.r.s.e to go outside of camp.'

"'Ain't you actin' some n.i.g.g.ardly about that hea.r.s.e?' asks the Red Dog chief coldly.

"'Not n.i.g.g.ardly, only proodent. Death cometh as a thief in the night, speshully in Arizona, an' we-all'd be a fine band of prairie dogs to go lendin' our only hea.r.s.e all over the territory, an' mebby have it skallyhootin' 'round som'ers up about the Utah line jest when we needs it at home. However, as refootin' your onjest charge of bein'

n.i.g.g.ards, if you-all Red Dogs wants to bring deceased over yere, our entire lay-out is at your disposal. Allowin' you can find your own sky-pilot, we stands ready to not only let you have our hea.r.s.e, but furnish 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, to say 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, is ridin' circ.u.mspect herd on the play--'also, we presents you-all, without money an' without price, a sepulcher in our buryin' ground on Boot Hill.'

"This yere last provokes a storm of protest, the Red Dog del'gation takin' turns exposchoolatin'. But Enright an' the Doc stands ca'mly pat.

"'Which now,' says the Red Dog chief, an' his tones is bitter--'which now I begins to ketch onto your plot. You savvys as well as I do that old Holt don't ought to go into your pile at all. He belongs in our pile--to Red Dog's pile. An' let me reemind you intriguers that Red Dog 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 fine idee,' he concloods, turnin' sneerin'ly to his cohorts; 'not content with tryin' to grab off these yere obs'quies, they're brazenly manooverin' to purloin the corpse.'

"At these contoomelius reemarks Boggs, Tutt, Moore an' Cherokee takes to edgin' to the fore, but Enright reepresses 'em with a admon'tory wave of his hand.

"'Gents,' he says, to the Red Dog hold-ups, 'as vis'tors, even though se'f-invited, you're ent.i.tled to courtesy. But thar's a limit goes with 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 retires to consult. The wind-up is that they yields to Enright's terms, incloosive of Boot Hill, an' after libatin' at the Red Light they canters off to freight over old Holt, so's to be ready to hold the fooneral next day.

"As I looks back to them prep'rations thar's no denyin' that as a fooneral director the Turner person proves himse'f plumb cap'ble of gettin' thar with the goods. Once he reeceives the word, everything goes 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 be followin' the eighth drink, an' whispers to Enright, confidenshul, that when all's in the only thing he deplores is that old Holt is bein' planted on Boot Hill instead of in Headboard Hollow. At this Enright, 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 whole lot to Headboard Hollow. At this lib'ral'ty the Red Dog chief squeezes Enright's hand a heap fraternal, an' chokes with emotion. He sobs out that this is the one thing wanted to reestore them former friendly reelations between the camps.

"The procession is one of the most exhil'ratin' pageants ever seen in the Southwest. At the head is the ploomed hea.r.s.e, old Holt inside, the Turner person on the box. Next comes the stage coach, Monte drivin', an' Nell, Missis Rucker, Tucson Jennie, little Enright Peets, the Turner person's Peggy bride an' other ladies inside. The balance of us attends on our ponies, ridin' two an' two.

"As we're waitin' for the preacher sharp, who's goin' in the stage, to get tucked in among the ladies, a hollow-chested, chalk-cheeked, sardonic-lookin', cynical-seemin' bandit, drivin' a lean-laigged hoss to one of them spid'ry things they calls a quill-wheel, comes pirootin' 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 the wonderin' 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 of the hea.r.s.e. Then he pulls up, we-all not havin' had the word to start as yet.

"The Turner person has hooked up old Boomerang to the hea.r.s.e, so as to confer on this his first fooneral all the style he can. Havin' halted his quill-wheel, the hectic bandit, coughin' a little, p'ints his whip at 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' next to me, 'if he ain't that lunger from Albuquerque!' An' Boggs pulls out to the left, an' crowds up towards the hea.r.s.e 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'll race you for every splinter you own.'

"'That's all right,' retorts 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 hea.r.s.e 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 hea.r.s.e. 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 hea.r.s.e 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 hea.r.s.e 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 hea.r.s.e 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 hea.r.s.e, old Holt inside, racin' away to beat a royal flush.

"As hea.r.s.e 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' b.u.mpin' in clost pursoote of the hea.r.s.e. Nor be we-all on ponies left any behind, you bet. We cuts loose, quirt an' spur, an' brings up the r'ar in a dust-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 hea.r.s.e itse'f is as heavy as a Studebaker wagon. From standp'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 all heart an' bottom; an', game?--bald hornets is quitters to him!

"The load begins to tell at last, though, an' inch by inch Toobercloses starts to nose Boomerang out. It's then the flood-gates is lifted.

Nell, head out of one of the coach windows, starts screamin' to Boomerang; Missis Rucker's got her sunbonnet out of another, expressin' her opinion of the hectic bandit an' Toobercloses; Tucson Jennie is shoutin' for Dave to come an' rescue her; the Turner person's Peggy is shriekin' with hysterics; the preacher sharp--who's tryin' to get at Monte--is talkin' scriptoorally but various, while little Enright Peets is contreebutin' his small cub-coyote yelps of exultation to the gen'ral racket.

"Back among us riders the bets is flyin' hither an' yon as thick as swallow birds at eventide, we offerin' hundreds on Boomerang an' them Red Dogs backin' Toobercloses. It's as the tech of death to the Wolfville heart when we sees Toobercloses slowly surgin' to the fore.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THAR'S A BOMBARDMENT WHICH SOUNDS LIKE A BATTERY OF GATLINGS, 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 roman candles.