ed words, an' neither so much as stubs his orthographic
toe.

"The evenin' w'ars into what them poets calls the 'small hours.'
Missis Rucker is wearily battin' her eyes, while little Enright Peets
is snorin' guinea-pig snores in Tucson Jennie's lap.

"Thar comes a pause for Black Jack to pass the refreshments, an' Nell
takes advantage of the lull.

"'Hopin' no one,' says Nell, 'will think us onp'lite, we ladies will
retire. Jedgin' from the way little Enright Peets sounds, not to
mention how I feels or Missis Rucker looks, it's time we weaker
vessels hits the blankets.'

"'Yes, indeed,' adds Missis Rucker, smothering a yawn with her hand;
'I'd certainly admire to stay a whole lot, but rememberin' the hour I
thinks, like Nellie, that we-all ladies better pull our freight.'

"Enright settin' the example, we gents stands up while the ladies
withdraws, little Enright Peets bein' drug along between Nell an'
Tucson Jennie plumb inert.

"Peets resoomes his word-callin', an' them two heroes spells on for a
hour longer.

"At last, however, the Wells-Fargo book-keep sharp commences to turn
shaky; the pressure's beginnin' to tell. As for Spellin' Book Ben,
he's as steady as a church.

"'By the grave of Moses, Dan,' Tutt whispers to Boggs, 'that Red Dog
imposter's on the brink of a stampede.'

"Peets gives out 'colander'; it's Spellin' Book Ben's turn. As he
starts to whirl his verbal loop the Red Dog adept whips out his gun,
an' jams it ag'inst Spellin' Book's ribs.

"'Spell it with a "u,"' says the Red Dog sharp, 'or I'll shore send
you shoutin' home to heaven! Which I've stood all of your dad-binged
eryoodition my nerves is calk'lated to endoore.'

"Spellin' Book Ben's game, game as yaller wasps. With the cold muzzle
of that book-keep murderer's hint to the onconverted pushin' into his
side, he never flickers.

"'C-o,' he begins.

"But that's as far as he ever gets. Thar's a dull roar, an' pore
Spellin' Book comes slidin' from his learned perch. It's done so
quick that not even Jack Moore has time to hedge a stack down the
other way.

"'It's too late, Doc,' says pore Spellin' Book, as Peets stoops over
him; 'he gets me all right.' Then he rolls a gen'ral eye on all.
'Gents,' he says, 'don't send my remainder back to El Paso. Boot Hill
does me.'

"Them's Spellin' Book's last words, an' they does him proud.

"It's the Lightnin' Bug who grabs the murderin' book-keep sharp, an'
takes his gun away. Then he swin