"'Which I shorely don't see how,' says the alcalde.
"'Nor me neither,' says Franklin.
"'Whatever is the matter with counter-brandin' them tunes over to
Merino's license?' says Dave.
"'Can't do it nohow,' says the alcalde.
"'Well, is this yere ord'nance accordin' to Hoyle an' the
Declaration of Independence?' says Dave. 'I don't stand it none
onless.'
"'Shore!' says the alcalde.
"'Ante an' pass the buck, then,' says Dave. 'I'm a law-abidin'
citizen, an' all I wants is a squar' deal from the warm deck.'
"So they fines Dave fifty dollars for playin' them harmonies without
no license. Dave asks me later not to mention this yere outcome in
Wolfville, an' I never does. But yere it's different."
CHAPTER III.
The Feud of Pickles.
"Thar's a big crowd in Wolfville that June day." The Old Cattleman
tilted his chair back and challenged my interest with his eye. "The
corrals is full of pack mules an' bull teams an' wagon-trains; an'
white men, Mexicans, half-breeds an' Injuns is a-mixin' an'
meanderin' 'round, a-lyin' an' a-laughin' an' a-drinkin' of Red
Light whiskey mighty profuse. Four or five mule skinners has their
long limber sixteen-foot whips, which is loaded with dust-shot from
butt to tip, an' is crackin' of 'em at a mark.
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