Thar's a chuck-shop at Red Dog--it's a plumb low
j'int; I never knows it to have any grub better than beans, salt pig
an' airtights,--which is called the Abe Lincoln House, an' is kept
by a party named Pete Bland. Which this yere Bland also owns a goat,
the same bein' a gift of a Mexican who's got in the hole to Bland
an' squar's accounts that a-way.
"This goat is jest a simple-minded, every-day, common kind of a
goat; but he's mighty thorough in his way, allers on the hustle, an'
if he ever overlooks a play, no one don't know it. One day, when the
Red Dog editor is printin' off his papers, up comes the goat, an'
diskyardin' of the tin-can which he's chewin', he begins debauchin'
of himse'f with this yere edition of the Stingin' Lizard. It's
mighty soon when the editor discovers it an' lays for the goat
permiscus; he goes to chunkin' of him up a whole lot. The goat's
game an' declar's himse'f, an' thar starts a altercation with the
editor an' the goat, of which thar's no tellin' the wind-up, an'
which ends only when this yere Bland cuts in, an' the goat's drug
Borne. The paper is stopped an' the editor puts in this:
"Our presses are stopped to-day to say that if the weak-minded
person who maintains the large, black goat which infests our
streets, does not kill the beast, we will.
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