an' stakes him out,
shoulder to shoulder, with the little Saucy Willow. Neither Bill nor the
little Saucy Willow su'gests by word, screech or glance that they saveys
either the game or the stakes, an' eats on, takin' no notice of themse'fs
or any of the gluttons who surrounds 'em. Both Bill an' the little Saucy
Willow looks that witless you-all would yearn to bat 'em one with the
butt of a mule whip if onfortoonately you're present to be exasperated by
sech exhibitions. At last, however, jest as the patience of the audience
is plumb played, both Bill an' the little Saucy Willow gives a start of
surprise. Which they're pretendin' to be startled to find they're
feedin' off the same dish. Thar you be; that makes 'em 'buck an'
squaw'--'man an' wife;' an' yereafter, in Osage circles they can print
their kyards 'Mister an' Missis Bill Connors,' while Bill draws an'
spends the little Saucy Willow's annooty on payment day instead of Strike
Axe."

CHAPTER XIII.

When Tutt first saw Tucson.

"An' speakin' of dooels," remarked the Old Cattleman, apropos of an
anecdote of the field of honour wherewith I regaled his fancy,
"speakin' of dooels, I reckons now the encounter Dave Tutt involves
himse'f with when he first sees Tucson takes onchallenged preecedence
for utter bloodlessness. She's shore the most lamb's-wool form of
single combat to which my notice is ever drawn. Dave enlightens us
concernin' its details himse'f, bein' incited tharunto by hearin' Texas
Thompson relate about the Austin shootin' match of that Deaf Smith.

"'Which this yere is 'way back yonder on the trail of time,' explains
Dave, 'an' I'm hardened a heap since then. I've jest come buttin' into
Tucson an' it's easy money I'm the tenderest an' most ontaught party
that ever wears store-moccasins. What I misses knowin' would make as
husky a library,--if it's printed down in books,--as ever lines up on
shelves. Also, I'm freighted to the limit with the tenderfoot's usual
outfit of misinformation. It's sad, yet troo! that as I casts my gaze
r'arward I identifies myse'f as the balmiest brand of shorthorn who
ever leaves his parents' shelterin' roof.'

"'All the same,' says Dan Boggs, plenty conceited, 'I'll gamble a hoss
I'm a bigger eediot when I quits Missouri to roam the cow country than
ever you-all can boast of bein' in your most drivelin' hour.'

"'Do they lock you up?' asks Dave.

"'No,' says Dan, 'they don't lock me up none, but----'