'Stranger, we simply suffers with what we saveys. But thar's a
law ag'in cocktails an' all mixin' of drinks. You sees, a Mexican
female over in Tucson is one day mixin' drinks for a gent she's a-
harborin' idees ag'in, an' she rings in the loco onto him, an' he
goes plumb crazy. Then the Legislatoore arouses itse'f to its peril,
that a-way, an' ups an makes a law abatin' of mixed drinks. This
yere bein' gospel trooth, you'll have to drink straight whiskey; an'
you might as well drink it outen a tin cup, too.'
"As he says this, Black Jack sets up a bottle an' a tin cup, an'
then for a blazer slams a six-shooter on the bar at the same time.
Lookin' some bloo tharat, the Signal sharp takes a gulp or two of
straight nose-paint, cavilin' hot at the tin cup, an' don't mention
nothin' more of cocktails.
"'Whatever is the damage anyhow?' he says to Black Jack, soon as
he's quit gaggin' over the whiskey, the same tastin' raw an' vicious
to him, an' him with his lady-like throat framed ready for
cocktails. 'What's thar to pay?'
"'Nary contouse,' says Black Jack, moppin' of the bar complacent.
'Not a soo markee. That drink's on the house, stranger.'
"When this Signal sharp goes out, Enright says he's got pore
manners, an' he marvels some he's still walkin' the earth.
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