I've seen one of
these yere mule experts with the most easy, delicate, delib'rate
twist of the wrist make his whip squirm in the air like a hurt
snake; an' then he'll straighten it out with the crack of twenty
rifles, an' the buckskin popper cuts a hole in a loose buffalo robe
he's hung up; an' all without investin' two ounces of actooal
strength. Several of us Wolfville gents is on the sidewalk in front
of the O. K. Restauraw, applaudin' of the good shots, when Dave Tutt
speaks up to Jack Moore, next to me, an' says:
"'Jack, you minds that old Navajo you downs over on the San Simon
last Fall?'"
"'I minds him mighty cl'ar,' says Jack. 'He's stealin' my Alizan
hoss at the time, an' I can prove it by his skelp on my bridle now.'
"'Well,' says Dave, p'intin' to a ornery, saddle-colored half-breed
who's makin' himse'f some frequent, 'that Injun they calls "Pickles"
is his nephy, an' you wants to look out a whole lot. I hears him
allow that the killin' of his relatif is mighty rank, an' that he
don't like it nohow.'
"'That's all right,' says Jack; 'Pickles an' me has been keepin'
cases on each other an hour; an' I'll post you-all private, if he
goes to play hoss a little bit, him an' his oncle will be able to
talk things over before night.
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