'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.
"'However,' says Enright, 'I s'pose his livin' so long arises mainly from stayin' East, where they don't make no p'int on bein' p'lite, an' runs things looser.'
"'Whatever's the matter of chasin' this insultin' tenderfoot 'round a lot,' asks Texas Thompson, 'an' havin' amoosement with him? Thar ain't nothin' doin', an' we oughter not begretch a half-day's work, puttin' knowledge into this party.If somethin' ain't done forthwith to inform his mind as to them social dooties while he stays in Arizona, you can gamble he won't last to go East no more.'
"As what Texas Thompson says has weight, thar begins to grow a gen'ral desire to enlighten this yere sport.As Texas su'gests the idee, it follows that he goes for'ard to begin its execootion.
"'But be discreet, Texas,' says Enrialit, 'an' don't force no showdown with this Signal gent.Attainin' wisdom is one thing, an'
bein' killed that a-way, is plumb different; an' while I sees no objection to swellin' the general fund of this young person's knowledge, I don't purpose that you-all's goin' to confer no diplomas, an' graduate him into the choir above none with a gun, at one an' the same time.'
"'None whatever,' says Texas Thompson; 'we merely toys with this tenderfoot an' never so much as breaks his crust, or brings a drop of blood, the slightest morsel.He's takin' life too lightly; an'
all we p'ints out to do, is sober him an' teach him a thoughtful deecorum.'
"Texas Thompson goes a-weavin' up the street so as to cross the trail of this Signal party, who's headed down.As they passes, Texas turns as f'rocious as forty timber wolves, an' claps his hand on the shoulder of the Signal party.
"'How's this yere?' says Texas, shakin' back his long ha'r.An' he shorely looks hardened, that a-way.
"'How's what?' says the Signal man, who's astonished to death.
"'You saveys mighty well,' says Texas.'You fails to bow to me, aimin' to insult an' put it all over me in the presence of this yere multitood.Think of it, gents!' goes on Texas, beginnin' to froth, an' a-raisin' of his voice to a whoop; 'think of it, an' me the war-chief of the Panhandle, with forty-two skelps on my bridle, to be insulted an' disdained by a feeble shorthorn like this.It shore makes me wonder be I alive!
"'Stranger,' goes on Texas, turnin' to the Signal party, an' his hand drops on his gun, an' he breathes loud like a buffalo; 'nothin'
but blood is goin' to do me now.If I was troo to myse'f at this moment, I'd take a knife an' shorely split you like a mackerel.But I restrains myse'f; also I don't notice no weepon onto you.Go tharfore, an' heel yourse'f, for by next drink time the avenger 'll be huntin' on your trail.I gives you half an hour to live.Not on your account, 'cause it ain't comin' to you; but merely not to ketch no angels off their gyard, an' to allow 'em a chance to organize for your reception.Besides, I don't aim to spring no corpses on this camp.Pendin' hostil'ties, I shall rest myse'f in the Red Light, permittin' you the advantages of the dance hall, where Hamilton 'll lend you pen, ink, paper, an' monte table, wharby to concoct your last will.Stranger, adios!'
"By the time Texas gets off this talk an' starts for the Red Light, the Signal sport is lookin' some sallow an' perturbed.He's shorely alarmed.
"'See yere, pard,' says Dan Boggs, breakin' loose all at once, like he's so honest he can't restrain himse'f, an' jest as Texas heads out for the Red Light; 'you're a heap onknown to me, but I takes a chance an' stands your friend.Now yere's what you do.You stiffen yourse'f up with a Colt's '44, an' lay for this Texas Thompson.He's a rustler an' a hoss-thief, an' a murderer who, as he says, has planted forty-two, not countin' Injuns, Mexicans an' mavericks.He oughter be massacred; an' as it's come your way, why prance in an'
spill his blood.This camp'll justify an' applaud the play.
"'But I can't fight none,' says the Signal party.'It's ag'in the rooles an' reg'lations of the army.'
"'Which I don't see none how you're goin' to renig,' says Dave Tutt.
'This debauchee is doo to shoot you on sight.Them army rooles shortly should permit a gent to scout off to one side the strict trail a little; partic'lar when it's come down to savin' his own skelp.'
"One way an' another, Tutt an' Boggs makes it cl'ar as paint to the Signal party that thar's only two chances left in the box; either he downs Texas or Texas gets him.The Signal party says it's what he calls a 'dread alternatif.'
"'Which when I thinks of the gore this yere murderous Thompson already dabbles in,' says Boggs to the Signal party, 'I endorses them expressions.However, you put yourse'f in the hands of me an'
Dave, an' we does our best.If you lives through it, the drinks is on you; an' if Texas beefs you--which, while deplorable, is none remote considerin' this yere Texas is a reg'lar engine of destruction--we sees that your remainder goes back to the States successful.'
"The Signal party says he's thankful he's found friends, an'
tharupon they-all lines out for the dance hall, where they gets drinks, an' the Signal man, who's some pallid by now, figgers he'll write them letters an' sort o' straighten up his chips for the worst.Boggs observes that it's a good move, an' that Tutt an' he'll take an o'casional drink an' ride herd on his interests while he does.
"Tutt an' Boggs have got their brands onto mebby two drinks, when over comes Doc Peets, lookin' deadly dignified an' severe, an' says:
"'Who-all represents yere for this gent who's out for the blood of my friend, Texas Thompson?'
"'Talk to me an' Tutt,' says Boggs; 'an' cut her short, 'cause it's the opinion of our gent this rancorous Thompson infests the earth too long, an' he's hungerin' to begin his butchery.'
