While thus spec'latin'
on then resemblances, this yere sour old maverick, Ryder, shows up
at the bar for nourishment.
"'Don't tell Ryder about how this yere deelineation looks like
Tutt,' Says Doc Peets; 'I'll saw it off on him raw for his views,
and ask him whatever does he think himse'f.
"'See yere, Ryder,' says Peets, shovin' the paper onder the old
t'rant'ler's nose as he sets down his glass, 'whoever does this
picture put you in mind of? Does it look like any sport you knows?'
"'No,' says Ryder, takin' the paper an' puttin' on his specks, an'
at the same time as thankless after his nose-paint as if he'd been
refoosed the beverage; 'no, it don't put me in mind of nothin' nor
nobody. One thing shore, an' you-all hold-ups can rope onto that for
a fact, it don't remind me none of Dave Tutt.'
"Which Boggs, who, as I says, is allers herdin' ghosts, is
sooperstitious about old Ryder. That's straight; Boggs won't put
down a bet while this Ryder person's in sight. I've beheld Boggs,
jest as he's got his chips placed, look up an' c'llect a glimpse of
them fiddle-feachers of Ryder.
"'Whoop!' says Boggs to Cherokee, who would be behind the box, an'
spreadin' his hands in reemonstrance; 'nothin' goes!' An' then Boggs
would glare at this Ryder party ontil he'd fade from the room.
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