Thar's only one blow; as soon as Hotspur can round up his
fragments an' net to his hoofs, he goes sailin' down the valley, his
eyes stickin' out so's he can see his sins. As he starts, Prince
Hal, who's been hoppin' about the rim of the riot, claps his horns
to Hotspur's flyin' hocks an' keeps him goin'. But it ain't needed
none; that Falstaff actooally ruins Hotspur with the first charge.
"That night Falstaff, with the pore Pistol jest able to totter,
stays with us, an' Prince Hal fusses an' bosses' 'round, sort o'
directin' their entertainment. The next afternoon Falstaff gives a
deep bellow or two, like he's extendin' 'adios' to the entire
Caliente canyon, an' then goes pirootin' off for home in Long's,
with Pistol, who looks an' feels like a laughin' stock, limpin' at
his heels. That's the end. Four days later, as I'm swingin' 'round
the range, I finds Falstaff an' Pistol in Long's Canyon; Prince Hal
is on the Caliente; while Hotspur--an' his air is both wise an' sad-
-is tamely where he belongs on the Upper Red. An' now recallin' how
I comes to plunge into this yere idyl, I desires to ask you-all,
however Prince Hal brings Faistaff to the wars that time, if cattle
can't talk?"
CHAPTER XII.
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