Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who
camps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he gets
plugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie that
a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to
entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you
on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.
"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the
hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that
p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell?
Well, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how
he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all
'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the
effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his
weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with
the empty gun.
"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this
Lyin' Amos.
"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest
figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp
of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.
"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!--he's cashed in an'
settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes
onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well,
that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to
entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that
time at Deming.
Pages:
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334