I shore trusts that you ain't
started nothin' you can't stop.'

"The pore Professor don't nurse no doubts. He thinks he's in the
bubblin' midst of blood an' sudden death; wharfore, you bet, he throws
plenty of sperit into his racket. Makin' some hostile moves with his
hands--Boggs elevatin' his gun, not bein' quite content about them
motions--the Professor yells:

"'Get up!'

"Talk of mir'cals! Which you should have seen that rhoomatic! With one
turrific squawk he lands on his knees at the feet of Boggs, beggin'
for mercy.

"'Don't kill me,' he cries; 'I'll show you whar I plants the money.'

"Whoever is that rhoomatic? Which he's the stoodent who stands up the
stage over by Whetstone Springs. His rhoomatism's merely that
malefactor's way of goin' onder cover.

"The Professor later offers to divide with Boggs on the two
thousand-dollar reward the Wells-Fargo folks pays, but Boggs shakes
his head.

"'You take the entire wad, Professor,' says he, wavin' aside that
gen'rous necromancer. 'It's the trophy of your own hypnotic bow an'
spear. What share is borne by my .45 is incidental. Which I'll say,
too, that if I was playin' your hand I'd spread that cure on my
posters as the star mir'cle of my c'reer.'"

VIII

THAT TURNER PERSON

"Talk of your hooman storm-centers an' nacheral born hubs of grief,"
observed the old cattleman, reminiscently; "I'm yere to back that
Turner person ag'inst all competitors. Not but what once we're onto
his angles, he sort o' oozes into our regyards. His baptismal name is
'Lafe,' but he never does deerive no ben'fit tharfrom among us, him
behavin' that eegregious from the jump, he's allers referred to as
'that Turner person.'

"As evincin' how swift flows the turbid currents of his destinies, he
succeeds in focusin' the gen'ral gaze upon him before he's been in
camp a day. Likewise, it's jest as well Missis Rucker herse'f ain't
present none in person at the time, or mighty likely he'd have focused
all the crockery on the table upon him, which you can bet your last
_peso_ wouldn't have proved no desid'ratum. For while Missis Rucker
ain't what I calls onusual peevish, for a lady to set thar quiet an'
be p'inted to by some onlicensed boarder as a Borgia, that away, would
be more'n female flesh an' blood can b'ar.

"It's like this. The Turner person comes pushin' his way into the O.
K. Restauraw along with the balance of the common herd, an' pulls a
cha'r up ag'inst the vian