"He don't beef them 'leven in Wolfville; all I recalls with us, is
the man from Red Dog, the Stingin' Lizard, an' mebby a strayed
Mexican or so. But each time Cherokee's hand is forced by these yere
parties, an' he's exculpated in every gent's mind who is made awar'
tharof.
"No; Cherokee don't rely allers on his gun neither. He's a hurryin'
knife fighter for a gent with whom knives ain't nacher. Either way,
however, gun or knife, Cherokee is a heap reliable; an' you can put
down a bet that what he misses in the quadrille he'll shore make up
in the waltz with all who asks him to a war dance. But speakin' of
knives: Cherokee comes as quick an' straight with a bowie as a
rattlesnake; an' not half the buzz about it.
"But jest the same, while thar's gents in camp like Cherokee, who
has been ag'inst it more'n once, an' who wins an' gets away, still
Wolfviile's its quiet an' sincere an outfit as any christian could
ask.
"It's a fact; when Shotgun Dowling capers in an' allows he's about
to abide with us a whole lot, he's notified to hunt another hole the
first day.
"'So far from you-all livin' with us, Shotgun,' says Jack Moore,
who's depooted to give Shotgun Dowling the rein; 'so far from you
bunkin' in yere for good, we ain't even aimin' to permit your
visits.
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