y to tend to it.

"'About Cherokee an' his box,' he whispers; 'that's a lyin' bluff I
makes. Tell him I don't mean nothin'; I'm only out to draw his fire.'

"After this Dead Shot only rouses once. His voice ain't more'n a
sigh.

"'I forgets to tell you,' he says, 'to give her my love. An' you say,
too, that I'm bumped off like snuffin' out a candle--too plumb quick
for her to get yere. An' don't blame her, gents; it's not her fault,
it's mine.'

"It's the week after the fooneral. The postmaster's still in town,
partly by nacheral preference, partly because Enright notifies Jack
Moore to ride herd on him, an' fill him as full of lead as a bag of
bullets in event he ondertakes to go stampedin' off.

"In the Red Light the seventh evenin' Enright rounds up Peets.

"'Doc,' he says, 'a month would be more respect'ble, but this yere's
beginnin' to tell on me.'

"'Besides,' Peets chips in, by way of he'pin' Enright out, 'that
preacher sharp corraled over to Missis Rucker's is gettin' restless.
Onless we side-lines or puts hobbles on that divine we-all can't
expect to go holdin' him much longer.'

"Enright leads the way to the r'ar wareroom of the Noo York store,
which bein' whar the stranglers holds their meetin's is Wolfville's
hall of jestice. After licker is brought Enright sends Jack Moore for
the postmaster, who comes in lookin' plenty white. Missis Rucker
brings over the divine; an' next Dead Shot's widow--she's plumb lovely
in black--appears on the arm of Peets, who goes in person.

"Thar's a question in the widow's eye, like she don't onderstand.

"'Roll your game,' says Enright to the preacher sharp.

"It's yere an' now Dead Shot's widow fully b'ars out that philos'pher
who announces so plumb cold, that a-way, that women's the sublimation
of the onexpected. Jack Moore's jest beginnin' to manoover that
recreant public servant into p'sition on the widow's left hand, so's
he can be married to the best advantage, an' the preacher sharp's
gettin' out an' openin' his book of rooles, when the widow draws
back.

"P'intin' at the bridegroom postmaster, same as if he's a stingin'
lizard, she addresses Enright.

"'Whatever's the meanin' of this?'

"'Merely the croode preelim'naries, Ma'am,' Enright explains, 'to what
we-all trusts will prove a fa'rly deesir'ble weddin'.'

"'Me marry him?' an' the onmitigated scorn that relict exhibits, to
say nothin' of her tone of voice, shore makes the postmaster
bridegroom