you turn it the other way while I
drinks.'

"Not bein' otherwise engaged at the moment, an' havin' time at his
command, Jack repairs from behind the bar, an' seizes the Turner
person by the y'ear.

"'An' this is the boasted hospital'ty of the West!' howls the Turner
person, strugglin' to free himself from Jack, who's slowly but
voloominously bootin' him towards the street.

"It's Nell who tries to save him.

"'Yere, you Jack!' she sings out, 'don't you-all go hurtin' that pore
tenderfoot none.'

"Nell's a shade too late, however; Jack's already booted him out.

"Shore, Jack apologizes.

"'Beg parding, Nellie,' he says; 'your least command beats four of a
kind with me; but as to that ejected shorthorn, I has him all thrown
out before ever you gets your stack down.'

"The Turner person picks himse'f out of the dust, an', while he feels
his frame for dislocations with one hand, feebly menaces at Black Jack
with t'other.

"'Some day, you rum-sellin' miscreent,' he says, 'you'll go too far
with me.'

"As showin' how little these vicisitoodes preys on this Turner person,
it ain't ten minutes till he's hit the middle of Wolfville's principal
causeway, roarin' at the top of his lungs,

"'Cl'ar the path! I'm the grey wolf of the mountings, an' gen'ral
desolation follows whar I leads!'

"Yere he gives a prolonged howl.

"The hardest citizen that ever belted on a gun couldn't kick up no
sech row as that in Wolfville, an' last as long as a drink of whiskey.
In half the swish of a coyote's tail, Jack Moore's got the Turner
person corralled.

"'This camp has put up with a heap from you,' says Moore, 'an' now we
tries what rest an' reeflection will do.'

"'I'm a wolf--!'

"'We savvys all about you bein' a wolf. Also, I'm goin' to tie you to
the windmill, as likely to exert a tamin' inflooence.'

"Moore conveys the Turner person to the windmill, an' ropes his two
hands to one of its laigs.

"'Thar, Wolf,' he says, makin' shore the Turner person is fastened
secoore, 'I shall leave you ontil, with every element of wildness
abated, you-all begins to feel more like a domestic anamile.'

"From whar we-all are standin' in front of the post office, we can
see the Turner person roped to the windmill laig.

"'What do you reckon's wrong with that party?' asks Enright, sort o'
gen'ral like; 'I don't take it he's actchooally locoed none.'

"Thar's half a dozen opinions on the p'int involved. Tutt su'gests
that the Tur