the _Daily Coyote_. Still,
the compar'son is plenty convincin'. Accordin' to the Doc himself,
this Cleopatra's a meteoric female party, as lively as she is lovely,
who sets a passel of ancient sports to walkin' in a cirkle back
some'ers in the mists of time. Also, it's bloo chips to white, an' bet
'em higher than a cat's back, the Doc knows. The Doc is ondoubted the
best eddicated gent that ever makes a moccasin track between Yuma an'
the Raton Pass, an' when he onbuckles techin' any historic feachures,
you can call for a gooseha'r pillow, an' go to sleep on it he ain't
barkin' at no knot.

"Thar's a feeble form of young tenderfoot pesterin' about the suburbs
of the crowd. He's one of them hooman deficits, so plumb ornery as to
be useless East, which their fam'lies, in gettin' rid of 'em, saws
happ'ly off onto a onprotected West. This partic'lar racial disaster's
been on our hands now mebbe it's six months, an' we-all is hopin'
that in some p'intless sort o' way he'll brace up and do overt acts
which entitles us to stampede him out of camp. But so far he don't.

"This yere exile comes wanderin' into the talk by askin'--his voice as
thin as a curlew's:

"'Who is this old Monte you're alloodin' at?'

"'Whoever he is?' says Boggs. 'Which if you-all'd struck camp by way
of Tucson, instead of skulkin' upon us in the low-down fashion you
does along of the Lordsburg-Red Dog buckboard, you wouldn't have to
ask none. He's the offishul drunkard of Arizona, Monte is. Which the
same should be notice, too, that it's futile for you to go ropin' at
that p'sition. I says this, since from the quantity of Old Jordan
you've been mowin' away, I more'n half infers that you nourishes
designs upon the place.'

"The feeble young shorthorn smiles a puny smile, and don't lunge forth
into no more queries.

"Texas, who's been listenin' to what Boggs says, squar's 'round an'
half-way erects his crest for an argyooment. Texas has had marital
troubles, an' him ponderin' the same constant renders him some morbid
an' morose.

"'From your tone of voice, Dan,' remarks Texas, 'I takes it you holds
Monte's appetite for nose paint to be a deefect. That's whar I
differs. That old marauder is a drunkard through sheer excess of
guile. He finds in alcohol his ark of refooge. I only wish I'd took to
whiskey in my 'teens.'

"Boggs is amazed.

"'Texas,' he says, plenty sorrowful, 'it wouldn't astonish me none if
you finds your finish in a wickeyup de