That Wolfville-Red Dog Fourth

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Title:     That Wolfville-Red Dog Fourth
Author: Alfred Henry Lewis [More Titles by Lewis]

"By nacher I'm a patriot, cradle born and cradle bred; my Americanism, second to none except that of wolves an' rattlesnakes an' Injuns an' sim'lar cattle, comes in the front door an' down the middle aisle; an' yet, son, I'm free to reemark that thar's one day in the year, an' sometimes two, when I shore reegrets our independence, an' wishes thar had been no Yorktown an' never no Bunker Hill."

The old cattleman tasted his glass with an air weary to the borders of dejection; after which he took a pathetic puff at his pipe. I knew what had gone wrong. This was the Fifth of July. We had just survived a Fourth of unusual explosiveness, and the row and racket thereof had worn threadbare the old gentleman's nerves.

"Yes, sir," he continued, shoving a 'possum-colored lock back from his brow, "as I suffers through one of them calamities miscalled cel'brations, endoorin' the slang-whangin' of the orators an' bracin' myse'f ag'inst the slam-bangin' of the guns, to say nothin' of the firecrackers an' kindred Chinese contraptions, I a'preeciates the feelin's of that Horace Walpole person Colonel Sterett quotes in his Daily Coyote as sayin', 'I could love my country, if it ain't for my countrymen.'

"Still, comin' down to the turn, I reckon it merely means, when all is in, that I'm gettin' too plumb old for comfort. It's five years now since I dare look in the glass, for fear I'd be tempted to count the annyooal wrinkles on my horns.

"It's mighty queer about folks. Speakin' of cel'brations, for thousands of years the only way folks has of expressin' any feelin' of commoonal joy, that a-way, is to cut loose in limitless an' onmeanin' uproar. Also, their only notion of a public fest'val is for one half of the outfit to prance down the middle of the street, while the other half banks itse'f ag'inst the ediotic curb an' looks at 'em.

"People in the herd ain't got no intelligence. We speaks of the lower anamiles as though we just has it on 'em completely in the matter of intelligence, but for myse'f I ain't so shore. The biggest fool of a mule-eared deer savvys enough to go feedin' up the wind, makin' so to speak a skirmish line of its nose to feel out ambushes. Any old bull elk possesses s'fficient wisdom to walk in a half-mile circle, as a concloodin' act before reetirin' for the night, so that with him asleep in the center, even if the wind does shift, his nose'll still get ample notice of whatever man or wolf may take to followin' his trail.

"That's what them 'lower anamiles' does. An' now I asks, what man, goin' about his numbskull dest'nies, lookin' as plumb wise as a too-whoo owl at noon, ever shows gumption equal to keepin' the constant wind in his face, or has the sense to go walkin' round himse'f as he rolls into his blankets, same as that proodent elk? After all, I takes it that these yere Fo'th of Jooly upheavals is only one among the ten thousand fashions in which hoomanity eternally onbuckles in expressin' its imbecil'ty.

"Which I certainly do get a heap disgusted at times with the wild beast called man. With all his bluffs about bein' so mighty sagacious, I can sit yere an' see that, speakin' mental, he ain't better than an even break with turkey gobblers. Even what he calls his science turns finally out with him to be but the accepted ignorance of to-day; an' he puts in every to-morrow of his existence provin' what a onbounded jackass rabbit he's been the day before. It's otherwise with them lower anamiles; what they knows they knows."

Plainly, something had to be done to fortify my old friend. I fell back, quite as a matter of course, upon that first aid to the injured, another drink, and motioned the black waiter to the rescue. It did my old friend good, that drink, the first fruits of which easier if not better condition being certain fresh accusations against himself.

"The trooth is, I'm a whole lot onused to these yere Fo'th of Jooly outbursts; an' so I ondoubted suffers from 'em more keenly, that a-way, than the av'rage gent. You see we never has none of 'em in Wolfville; leastwise we never does but once. On that single festive occasion we shore stubs our toe some plentiful, stubs it to that degree, in fact, that we never feels moved to buck the game ag'in. Once is enough for Wolfville.

"Which it's the single failure that stains the fame of the camp. At that, the flat-out reely belongs to Red Dog; or at least to Pete Bland, for which misguided party the Red Dogs freely acknowledges reespons'bility as belongin' to their outfit.

"This yere Bland's dead now an' deep onder the doomsday sods. Also, he died drinkin' like he'd lived.

"'What's the malady?' Enright asks Peets, when the Doc comes trackin' back, after seein' the finish of Bland.

"'No malady at all, Sam,' says Peets, plumb cheerful an' frisky, same as them case-hardened drug folks allers is when some other sport passes in his checks--'no malady whatsoever. His jag simply stops on centers, as a railroad gent'd say, an' I'm onable to start it ag'in.'

"Was Peets any good as a med'cine man? Son, I'm shocked! Peets is packin' 'round in his professional warbags the dipplomies of twenty colleges, an' is onchallenged besides as the best eddicated sharp personal on the sunset side of the Mississippi. You bet, he onderstands the difference at least between bread pills an' buckshot, which is a heap sight further than some of these yere drug folks ever studies.

"Colonel Sterett, who's fa'rly careful about what he says, reefers to Peets in his Daily Coyote as a 'intellectchooal giant,' an' thar ain't no record of any scoffer comin' squanderin' along to contradict. Mebby you'll say that the omission to do so is doo to the f'rocious attitoode of the Daily Coyote itse'f, techin' contradictions, an' p'int to how that imprint keeps standin' at the head of its editorial columns as a motto, the cynicism:

"'Contradict the Coyote and avoid old age!'

"Thar'd be nothin' in it if you do. That motto's only one of Colonel Sterett's bluffs, one of his witticisms that a-way. You don't reckon that, in a sparsely settled country, whar the pop'lation is few an' far between, the Colonel's goin' to go bumpin' off a subscriber over mebby a mere difference of opinion? The Colonel ain't quite that locoed."

"But about your Wolfville-Red Dog Fourth of July celebration?" I urged.

"Which I'm in no temper to tell a story--me settin' yere with every nerve as tight as a banjo catgut jest before it snaps. To reelate yarns your mood ought to be the mood of the racontoor--a mood as rich an' rank an' upstandin' as a field of wheat, ready to billow an' bend before every gale of fancy. The way yesterday leaves me, whatever tale I ondertakes to reecount would about come out of my mouth as stiff an' short an' brittle as chopped hay. Also, as tasteless. Better let it go till some other an' more mellow evenin'."

No; I was ready to accept the chances, and said as much. A chopped-hay style, for a change, might be found acceptable. Supplementing the declaration with renewed Old Jordan, I was so far victorious that my aged man of cattle yielded.

"Well, then," he began reluctantly, "I'm onable to partic'larly say which gent does make the orig'nal s'ggestion, but my belief is it's Peets. I'm shore, however, that the Cornwallis idee comes from Bland; an', since it's not only at that Cornwallis angle we-all falls publicly down, but the same is primar'ly doo to the besotted obstinacy of this yere Bland himse'f, Wolfville, while ever proudly willin' to b'ar whatever blame's sawed off on to her shoulders proper, is always convinced that Red Dog an' not us is to be held accountable. However, Bland's gone an' paid what the sky scouts speaks of as the debt to nacher, an' I'm willin' to confess for one that when he's sober he ain't so bad. Not that them fits of sobriety is either so freequent or so protracted they takes on any color of monotony.

"Bland's baptismal name is Pete, an' in his way he's a leadin' inflooence in Red Dog. He's owner of the 7-bar-D outfit, y'earmark a swallow-fork in both y'ears--which brands seventeen hundred calves each spring round-up; an' is moreover proprietor of the Abe Lincoln Hotel, the same bein' Red Dog's principal beanery. Bland don't have to keep this yere tavern none, but it arranges so he sees his friends an' gets their dinero at one an' the same time, which as combinin' business an' pleasure in equal degrees appeals to him a heap.

"Which it's the gen'ral voice that the best thing about Bland is his wife. She's shore loyal to Bland, you bet! When they're livin' in Prescott, an' a committee of three from one of them 'Purification Of The Home' societies comes trapesin' in, to tell her about Bland bein' ondooly interested in a exyooberant young soobrette who's singin' at the theayter, an' spendin' his money on her mighty permiscus, Missis Bland listens plenty ca'm ontil they're plumb through. Then she hands them Purifiers this:

"'Well, ladies, I'd a heap sooner have a husband who can take keer of two women than a husband who can't take keer of one.'

"After which she comes down on that Purification bunch like a fallin' star, an' brooms 'em out of the house. Accordin' to eye witnesses, who speaks without prejewdyce, she certainly does dust their bunnets strenuous.

"When Bland hears he pats Missis Bland on the shoulder, an' exclaims, 'Thar's my troo-bloo old Betsy Jane! She knows I wouldn't trade a look from them faded old gray eyes of hers for all the soobretts whoever pulls a frock on over their heads!'

"Followin' which encomium Bland sends to San Francisco an' changes in the money from five hundred steers for an outfit of diamonds, to go 'round her neck, an' preesents 'em to Missis Bland.

"'Thar,' he says, danglin' them gewgaws in the sun, 'you don't notice no actresses flittin' about the scene arrayed like that, do you? If so, p'int out them over-bedecked females, an' I'll see all they've got on an' go 'em five thousand better, if it calls for every 7-bar-D steer on the range.'

"'Pete,' says Missis Bland, clampin' on to the jooelry with one hand, an' slidin' the other about his neck, 'you certainly are the kindest soul who ever makes a moccasin track in Arizona, besides bein' a good provider.'

"Shore, this yere Bland ain't so plumb bad.

"An' after a fashion, too, he's able to give excooses. Talkin' to Peets, he lays his rather light an' frisky habits to him bein' a preacher's son.

"'Which you never, Doc,' he says, 'meets up with the son an' heir of a pulpiteer that a-way, who ain't pullin' on the moral bit, an' tryin' for a runaway.'

"'At any rate, Pete,' the Doc replies, all cautious an' conservative, 'I will say that if you're lookin' for some party who'll every day be steady an' law abidin', not to say seedate, you'll be a heap more likely to find him by searchin' about among the progeny of some party who's been lynched.'

"Recurrin' again to that miserabul Fo'th of Jooly play we cuts loose in, it's that evenin' when we invites Red Dog over in a body to he'p consoome the left-over stock of lickers in the former Votes For Women S'loon, an' nacherally thar's some drinkin'. As is not infrequent whar thar's drinkin', views is expressed an' prop'sitions made. It's then we takes up the business of havin' that cel'bration.

"Peets makes a speech, I recalls, an' after dilatin' 'round to the effect that Fo'th of Jooly ain't but two weeks ahead, allows that it'd be in patriotic line for us to do somethin'.

"'Conj'intly,' says Peets, 'Red Dog an' Wolfville, movin' together with one proud purpose of patriotism, ought to put over quite a show. As commoonities we're no longer in the swaddlin' clothes of infancy. It's time, too, that we goes on record as a whole public in some manner an' form best calk'lated to make a somnolent East set up an' notice us.'

"Peets continyoos in a sim'lar vein, an' speaks of the settlement of the Southwest, wharin we b'ars our part, as a 'Exodus without a prophet, a croosade without a cross,' which sent'ment he confesses he takes from a lit'rary sport, but no less troo for that. He closes by sayin' that if everybody feels like he does Wolfville an' Red Dog'll j'ine in layin' out a program, that a-way, which'll shore spread the glorious trooth from coast to coast that we-all is on the map to stay.

"It's a credit to both outfits, how yoonanimously the s'ggestion is took up. Which I never does see a public go all one way so plumb quick, an' with so little struggle, since B'ar Creek Stanton is lynched; which act of jestice even has the absoloote endorsement of B'ar Creek himse'f.

"Peets is no sooner done talkin' than Tutt stacks in.

"'Thar's our six-shooters,' says he, 'for the foosilade; an', as for moosic, sech as "Columbia the Gem" an' the "Star Spangled Banner," we can round up them Dutchmen, who's the orchestra over at the Bird Cage Op'ry House.'

"The talk rambles on, one word borryin' another, ontil we outlines quite a game. Thar's to be a procession between Wolfville an' Red Dog, an' back ag'in, Faro Nell leadin' the same on a pinto pony as the Goddess of Liberty.

"'An' that reeminds me,' submits Cherokee, when we reaches Nell; 'thar's Missis Rucker. It's goin' to hurt her feelin's to be left out. As the preesidin' genius of the O. K. Restauraw she's in shape to give us a racket we'll despise in eevent she gets her back up.'

"'How about lettin' her in on the play,' says Boggs, 'an' typ'fyin' Jestice, that a-way?'

"'Thar's a idee, Dan,' says Texas Thompson, 'which plugs the center, a reecommendation which does you proud! Down in that Laredo Co't House whar my wife wins out her divorce that time, thar's a figger of Jestice painted on the wall. Shore, it don't mean nothin'; but all the same it's thar, dressed in white, that a-way, with eyes bandaged, an' packin' a sword in one hand an' holdin' aloft some balances in t'other. Come to think of it, too, that picture shore looks a lot like Missis Rucker in the face, bein' plumb haughty an' commandin'.'

"'Missis Rucker not bein' yere none,' says Enright softly, an' peerin' about some cautious, 'I submits that while no more esteemable lady ever tosses a flapjack or fries salt-hoss in a pan, her figger is mebby jest a trifle too abundant. As Jestice, she'll nacherally be arrayed--as Texas says--in white, same as Nell as the Goddess. I don't want to seem technicle, but white augments the size of folks an' will make the lady in question look bigger'n a load of hay.'

"'Even so,' reemarks the Red Dog chief indulgently, 'would that of itse'f, I asks, be reckoned any setback? The lady will person'fy Jestice; an' as sech I submits she can't look none too big.'

"In compliment to the Red Dog chief Enright, with a p'lite flourish, allows that he yields his objection with pleasure, an' Missis Rucker is put down for Jestice. It's agreed likewise to borry a coach from the stage company for her to ride on top.

"'Her bein' preeclooded,' explains Peets, 'from ridin' a hoss that a-way, as entirely ondignified if not onsafe. We can rig her up a throne with one of the big splint-bottom cha'rs from the Red Light, an' wrop the same in the American flag so's to make it look offishul.'

"Tucson Jennie, with little Enright Peets as the Hope of the Republic, is to ride inside the coach.

"Havin' got this far, Pete Bland submits that a tellin' number would be a sham battle, Red Dog ag'in Wolfville.

"Thar's opp'sition developed to this. Both Enright an' the Red Dog chief, as leaders of pop'lar feelin', is afraid that some sport'll forget that it ain't on the level, an' take to over-actin' his part.

"As the Red Dog chief expresses it:

"'Some gent might be so far carried away by enthoosiasm as to go to shootin' low, an' some other gent get creased.'

"'The same bein' my notion exact,' Enright chips in. 'Of course, the gent who thus shoots low would ondenyably do so onintentional; but what good would that do the party who's been winged, an' who mightn't live long enough to receive apol'gies?'

"'That's whatever!' says Jack Moore. 'A sham battle's too plumb apt to prove a snare. The more, since everybody's so onused to 'em 'round yere. A gent, by keepin' his mind firm fixed, might manage to miss once or twice; but soon or late he'd become preoccupied, an' bust some of the opp'sition before he could ketch himse'f.'

"Bland, seein' opinion's ag'inst a sham battle, withdraws the motion, an' does it plenty graceful for a gent who's onable to stand.

"'Enough said,' he remarks, wavin' a acquiescent paw. 'Ante, an' pass the buck.'

"The Lightnin' Bug, speakin' from the Red Dog side, insists that in the reg'lar course of things thar's bound to be oratory. In that connection he mentions a sharp who lives in Phoenix.

"'Which I'm shore,' says the Bug, 'he'd be gladly willin' to assist; an' you hear me he's got a tongue of fire! Some of you-all sports must have crossed up with him--Jedge Beebe of Phoenix?'

"'Jedge Beebe?' interjecks Monte, who's given a hostler his proxy to take out the stage because of thar bein' onlimited licker; 'me an' the Jedge stands drinkin' together for hours the last time he's in Tucson. But you're plumb wrong, Bug, about him bein' eloquent.'

"'Wrong?' the Bug repeats, mighty indignant.

"'Of course,' says Monte, rememberin' how easy heated the Bug is, an' that he looks on six-shooters as argyooments, 'I don't mean he can't talk none; only he ain't what the Doc yere calls no Demosthenes.'

"'Did you ever hear the Jedge talk?' demands the Bug.

"'Which I shore does,' insists Monte; 'I listens to him for two hours that time in Tucson. It's when they opens the Broadway Dance Hall.'

"'Whatever is his subject?' asks the Bug, layin' for to ketch Monte; 'what's the Jedge talkin' about?'

"'I don't know,' says Monte, wropped in his usual mantle of whiskey-soaked innocence; 'he didn't say.'

"The Bug's eyes comes together in a angry focus; he thinks he's bein' made game of.

"Tharupon Enright cuts in.

"'Bug,' he says, all sociable an' suave, 'you mustn't mind Monte. He's so misconstructed that followin' the twenty-fifth drink he goes about takin' his ignorance for information. No one doubts but you're a heap better jedge than him of eloquence, an' everything else except nosepaint. S'ppose you consider yourse'f a committee to act for the con'jint camps, an' invite this yere joorist to be present as orator of the day.'

"The Bug's brow cl'ars at this, an' he asshores Enright that he'll be proud to act as sech.

"'An', gents,' he adds, 'if you says he ain't got Patrick Henry beat to a standstill, may I never hold as good as aces-up ag'in.'

"The Red Dog chief announces that all hands must attend a free-for-all banquet which, inflooenced by the tenth drink, he then an' thar decides to give at Bland's Abe Lincoln House.

"'Said banquet,' he explains, 'bein' in the nacher of a lunch to be held at high noon. If the dinin' room of the Abe Lincoln House ain't spacious enough, an I'll say right yere it ain't, we'll teetotaciously set them tables in the street. That's my style! I wants everybody, bar Mexicans, to be present. When I gives a blow-out, I goes fo'th into the highways an' byways, an' asks the halt an' the lame an' the blind, like the good book says. Also, no gent need go prowlin' 'round for no weddin' garments wharin to come. Which he's welcome to show up in goat-skin laiggin's, or appear wropped in the drippin' an' offensive pelt of a wet dog.'

"The Red Dog chief, lest some of us is sens'tive, goes on to add that no gent is to regyard them cracks about the halt an' the lame an' the blind as aimed at Wolfville. He allows he ain't that invidious, an' in what he says is merely out to be both euphonious an' explicit, that a-way, at one an' the same time.

"To which Enright reesponds that no offence is took, an' asshores the Red Dog chief that Wolfville will attend the banquet all spraddled out.

"More licker, followed by gen'ral congratulations.

"Bland ag'in comes surgin' to the fore. This time he thinks that as a main feachure it would be a highly effective racket to reenact the surrender of Cornwallis to Washington.

"Tutt goes weavin' across to shake his hand.

"'Some folks allows, Pete,' says Tutt, 'that you're as whiskey-soaked an old fool as Monte. But not me, Pete, not your old pard, Dave Tutt! An' you hear me, Pete, that idee about Cornwallis givin' up his sword to Washington dem'nstrates it.'

"'You bet your life it does!' says Bland.

"'But is this yere surrender feasible?' asks Texas. 'Which, at first blink, it seems some cumbrous to me.'

"'It's as easy as turnin' jack,' declar's Tutt, takin' the play away from Bland. 'I've seen it done.'

"'As when an' whar?' puts in Cherokee.

"'Thar's a time,' says Tutt--'it's way back--when I sets into a little poker game over in El Paso, table stakes she is, an' cleans up for about $10,000. For mebby a week I goes 'round thinkin' that $10,000 is a million; an' after that I simply knows it is. These yere onnacheral riches onhinges me to a p'int whar I deecides I'll visit Chicago an' Noo York, as calk'lated to broaden me.'

"'Noo York!--Chicago!' interrupts the Bug. 'I once deescends upon them hamlets, an' I encounters this yere strikin' difference. In Chicago they wouldn't let me spend a dollar, while in Noo York they wouldn't let anybody else spend one.'

"'It's otherwise with me,' goes on Tutt, 'because for a wind-up I don't see neither. I'm young then, d' you see, an' affected by yooth an' wealth I takes to licker, with the result that I goes pervadin' up an' down the train, insistin' on becomin' person'ly known to the passengers.'

"'An' nacherally you gets put off,' says Boggs.

"'Not exactly, neither. Only the conductor, assisted by a bevy of brakemen, lays the thing before me in sech a convincin' shape that I gets off of my own accord. It seems that to be agree'ble, I proposes wedlock to a middle-aged schoolmarm, who allows that she sees no objection except I'm a perfect stranger. She says it ain't been customary with her much to go weddin' strangers that a-way, but if I'll get myse'f reg'larly introdooced, an' then give her a day or so to become used to my looks, she'll go me. It's then the conductor draws me aside, an' says, "I've a son about your age, my eboolient young sport, which is why I takes your part. My theery is that if you sticks aboard this train ontil we reaches Rock Island, you'll never leave that village a single man."

"'This sobers me,' Tutt continyoos, 'an' I hides in the baggage kyar ontil we reaches a camp called Sedalia, whar I quietly makes my escape. I'm that reelieved I gives the cabman $20 to let me drive, an' then starts in to wake things up. Which I shore wakes 'em! I comes down the main street like the breath of destiny; an', say, you ought to see them Missourians climb trees, an' gen'rally break for cover! It costs me $50; an' the jedge gives me his word that, only it's the Fo'th of Jooly, he'd have handed me two weeks in the calaboose. I clinks down the fifty pesos some grateful, an' goes bulgin' forth to witness the cer'monies. She's a jo-darter, that Sedalia cel'bration is! As Pete yere recommends, they pulls off the surrender of Cornwallis on the Fair grounds. Also, it's plumb easy. All you needs is mebby a couple of hundred folks on hosses, an' after that the rest's like rollin' off a log.'

"More is said as the drink goes round, an' Cornwallis surrenderin' to Washington takes hold of our imaginations. We throws dice, an' settles it that Red Dog'll be the English, with Bland as Cornwallis, while Wolfville acts as the Americans, Boggs to perform as Washington--Boggs bein' six foot an' some inches, besides as wide as a door. By the time we gets the stock of the Votes for Women S'loon fully drinked up everything's arranged.

"Onless you sees no objections, son, I'll gallop through the balance of this yere painful eepisode. The day comes round, bright an' cl'ar, an' the Copper Queen people gen'rously starts the ball a-rollin' by explodin' thirteen cans of powder, one for each of the orig'nal states. Then the procession forms, Nell in front as the Goddess. Thar's full two hundred of us, Wolfville an' Red Dog, on ponies. As to Missis Rucker, she's on top of the coach as Jestice, Tucson Jennie--with little Enright Peets lookin' like a young he cherub--inside, an' Monte pullin' the reins over the six hosses. We makes four trips between Wolfville an' Red Dog, crackin' off our good old '45s at irreg'lar intervals, Nell on her calico pony as the Goddess bustin' away with the rest.

"Little Enright Peets wants in on the pistol shootin', an' howls jes' like a coyote--as children will--ontil Boggs, who foresees it an' comes provided, gives him a baby pistol, a box of blank cartridges, an' exhorts him to cut loose. Which little Enright Peets shore cuts loose, all right; an', except that he sets fire to the coach a few times, an' makes Missis Rucker oneasy up on top--her fearin' that mebby some of them blanks has bullets in 'em by mistake--he has a perfectly splendid time.

"The procession over, we eats up the Red Dog chief's banquet, wharat every brand of airtights is introdooced. That done, we listens to Jedge Beebe, who soars an' sails an' sails an' soars, rhetorical, for mebby it's a hour, an' is that eloquent an' elevated he never hits nothin' but the highest places.

"The Red Dog chief makes a speech, an' proposes 'Wolfville'; to which Peets--by Enright's request--reesponds, an' offers 'Red Dog.' It's bottoms up to both sentiments; for thar's no negligence about the drinks, Black Jack havin' capered fraternally over to he'p out his overworked barkeep brother of the Red Dog Tub of Blood.

"When no one wants to further drink or eat or talk, we reepa'rs to a level place between the two camps to go through the Cornwallis' surrender. The rival forces is arrayed opp'site, Cornwallis Bland in a red coat, an' Washington Boggs in bloo an' buff, accordin' to the teachin's of hist'ry. Both of 'em has sabers donated from the Fort.

"When all's ready Washington Boggs an' Cornwallis Bland rides out in front ontil they're in easy speakin' distance. Cornwallis Bland's been over-drinkin' some, an' is w'arin' a mighty deefiant look.

"After a spell, nothin' bein' spoke on either side, Washington Boggs calls out:

"'Is this yere Gen'ral Cornwallis?'

"'Who you talkin' to?' demands Cornwallis Bland, a heap contemptuous an' insolent.

"Peets has done writ out words for 'em to say, but neither uses 'em. Observin' how Cornwallis Bland conducts himse'f, Washington Boggs waves his sword plenty vehement, which makes his pony cavort an' buckjump, an' roars:

"'Don't you try to play nothin' on me, Gen'ral Cornwallis. Do you or do you not surrender your mis'rable blade?'

"'Surrender nothin'!' Cornwallis Bland sneers back, meanwhile reelin' in his saddle. 'Thar's never the horned-toad clanks a spur in Cochise County can make me surrender. Likewise, don't you-all go wavin' that fool weepon at me none. I don't valyoo it more'n if it's a puddin' stick. Which I've got one of 'em myse'f'--yere he'd have lopped off one of his pony's y'ears, only it's so dull--'an' I wouldn't give it to a yellow pup to play with.'

"'For the last time, Cornwallis,' says Washington Boggs, face aflame with rage, 'I commands you to surrender.'

"'Don't let him bluff you, Pete,' yells a bumptious young cow-puncher who belongs on the Red Dog-English side. 'Which we can wipe up the plains with that Wolfville outfit.'

"The Red Dog chief bats the young trouble-makin' cow-puncher over the head with his gun, an' quietly motions to the Lightnin' Bug an' a fellow Red Dog to pack what reemains of him to the r'ar. This done, he turns to reemonstrate with Cornwallis Bland for his obstinancy. He's too late. Washington Boggs, who's stood all he will, drives the spurs into his pony, an' next with a bound an' a rush, he hits Cornwallis Bland an' his charger full chisle.

"The pony of Cornwallis Bland fa'rly swaps ends with itse'f, an' Cornwallis would have swapped ends with it, too, only Washington Boggs collars an' hefts him out of his saddle.

"'Now, you onwashed drunkard, will you surrender?' roars Washington Boggs, shakin' Cornwallis Bland like a dog does a rat, ontil that British leader drops all of his hardware, incloosive of his pistol--'now will you surrender, or must I break your back across your own pony, as showin' you the error of your ways?'

"It looks like thar's goin' to be a hostile comminglin' of all hands, when--her ha'r streamin' behind her same as if she's a comet--Missis Bland comes chargin' up.

"'Yere, you drunken villyun!' she screams to Boggs, 'give me my husband this instant, onless you wants me to t'ar your eyes out!'

"'It's him who's to blame, ma'am,' says Enright mildly, comin' to Boggs' rescoo; 'which he won't surrender.'

"'Oh, he won't, won't he?' says Missis Bland, as she hooks onto Cornwallis Bland. 'You bet he'll surrender to me all right, or I'll know why.'

"As the Red Dog chief is apol'gizin' to Enright, who's tellin' him not to mind, Cornwallis Bland is bein' half shoved an' half drug, not to mention wholly yanked, towards the Abe Lincoln House by Missis Bland.

"That's the end. This yere ontoward finale to our cel'bration gets wide-flung notice in print, an' instead of bein' a boost, as we-all hopes, Wolfville an' Red Dog becomes a jest an' jeer. Also, while it don't sour the friendly relations of the two camps, the simple mention of Fo'th of Jooly leaves a bitter taste in the Wolfville-Red Dog mouth ever since."

[The end]
Alfred Henry Lewis's short story: That Wolfville-Red Dog Fourth

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