Faro Nell and Her Friends: Wolfville Stories

"The Doc, however, is obdoorate, an' Cherokee shoves back.

"'I think,' says Nell, whisperin' to Missis Rucker an' Tucson Jennie, who, with little Enright Peets, is off to one side–'I think the Doc's a mighty sight too contracted in his scope.'

"Monte falls by the wayside on 'Scenery,' an' is that preepost'rous he starts to give Peets an argyooment. Monte spells it 'Seenry.'

"'Whar do you-all get your licence, Doc,' he demands, when Peets tells him how it's spelled, 'to jam in that misfit "c"? Me havin' drove stage for twenty years, I've seen as much scenery as any gent present, an' should shore know how it's spelled. Scenery is what you sees. "S-e-e" spells see; an' tharfore I contends that "S-e-e-n-r-y" spells scenery. That "c" you springs on us, Doc, is a solecism, an' as much out of place as a cow on a front porch.'

"Enright raps Monte down. '"Scenery" is spelled any way which the Doc says,' declar's Enright, his eye some severe, 'an' I trusts no gent'll compel the cha'r to take measures.'

"'Say no more,' responds Monte, plenty humble and prompt. 'What I urges is only to 'licit information. I still thinks, however, that onder the gen'ral wellfare clause of the constitootion, an' with an onfenced alphabet to pick an' choose from, a sport ought to have the inalienable right to spell things the way he likes. Otherwise, whatever is the use of callin' this a free country? If a gent's to be compelled to spell scenery with a fool "c," I asks you why was Yorktown an' wharfore Bunker Hill?'

"Monte, havin' thus onloaded, reetires to the r'ar, coverin' his chagrin by hummin' a stanzy or two from the well-known ditty, 'Bill, of Smoky Hill.'

Bill driv three spans of hosses,

An' when Injuns hove in sight,
He'd holler "Fellers, give 'em hell!

I ain't got time to fight."

But he chanced one time to run ag'in

A bullet made of lead,
An' when they brung Bill into town,

A bar'l of tears was shed.

"While Texas an' Boggs an' Tutt an' Cherokee an' Monte an' the rest of the Wolfville outfit is fallin' like November's leaves, them Red Dog bandits is fadin' jest as fast. If anything, they're fadin' faster. They're too p'lite or too proodent to cavil at the presence of Spellin' Book Ben, an' by third drink time after we starts thar's no gents left standin' except that Wells-Fargo book-keep sharp for Red Dog, an' Spellin' Book for us. It's give an' take between 'em for mebby one hundred words, an' neither so much as stubs his orthographic toe.

"The evenin' w'ars into what them poets calls the 'small hours.' Missis Rucker is wearily battin' her eyes, while little Enright Peets is snorin' guinea-pig snores in Tucson Jennie's lap.

"Thar comes a pause for Black Jack to pass the refreshments, an' Nell takes advantage of the lull.

"'Hopin' no one,' says Nell, 'will think us onp'lite, we ladies will retire. Jedgin' from the way little Enright Peets sounds, not to mention how I feels or Missis Rucker looks, it's time we weaker vessels hits the blankets.'

"'Yes, indeed,' adds Missis Rucker, smothering a yawn with her hand; 'I'd certainly admire to stay a whole lot, but rememberin' the hour I thinks, like Nellie, that we-all ladies better pull our freight.'

"Enright settin' the example, we gents stands up while the ladies withdraws, little Enright Peets bein' drug along between Nell an' Tucson Jennie plumb inert.

"Peets resoomes his word-callin', an' them two heroes spells on for a hour longer.

"At last, however, the Wells-Fargo book-keep sharp commences to turn shaky; the pressure's beginnin' to tell. As for Spellin' Book Ben, he's as steady as a church.

"'By the grave of Moses, Dan,' Tutt whispers to Boggs, 'that Red Dog imposter's on the brink of a stampede.'

"Peets gives out 'colander'; it's Spellin' Book Ben's turn. As he starts to whirl his verbal loop the Red Dog adept whips out his gun, an' jams it ag'inst Spellin' Book's ribs.

"'Spell it with a "u,"' says the Red Dog sharp, 'or I'll shore send you shoutin' home to heaven! Which I've stood all of your dad-binged eryoodition my nerves is calk'lated to endoore.'

"Spellin' Book Ben's game, game as yaller wasps. With the cold muzzle of that book-keep murderer's hint to the onconverted pushin' into his side, he never flickers.

"'C-o,' he begins.

"But that's as far as he ever gets. Thar's a dull roar, an' pore Spellin' Book comes slidin' from his learned perch. It's done so quick that not even Jack Moore has time to hedge a stack down the other way.

"'It's too late, Doc,' says pore Spellin' Book, as Peets stoops over him; 'he gets me all right.' Then he rolls a gen'ral eye on all. 'Gents,' he says, 'don't send my remainder back to El Paso. Boot Hill does me.'

"Them's Spellin' Book's last words, an' they does him proud.

"It's the Lightnin' Bug who grabs the murderin' book-keep sharp, an' takes his gun away. Then he swings him before Enright.

"'He's your pris'ner,' says the Red Dog chief, actin' for his outfit, an' Enright bows his acknowledgments.

"Son, it's a lesson to see them two leaders of men. Enright never shows up nobler, an' you can wager your bottom peso that the Red Dog chief is a long shot from bein' a slouch.

"Jack Moore takes the Wells-Fargo book-keep homicide in charge, while Enright, who declar's that jestice to be effectyooal must be swift, says that onless shown reason he'll convene the committee at once. He adds, likewise, that it'll be kindly took if the Red Dog chief, an' what members of his triboonal is present, will b'ar their part.

"In all p'liteness, the Red Dog chief deeclines.

"'This is your joorisdiction,' he says, 'an' we Red Dogs can only return the compliment which your su'gestion implies by asshorin' you-all of our advance confidence in the rectitoode of what jedgments you inflicts.'

"'Speak your piece,' says Enright to the Wells-Fargo book-keep culprit, when stood up before him by Moore. 'Whatever prompts you to blow out this Spellin' Book Ben's candle that a-way?'

"'Let me say,' exclaims the Wells-Fargo book-keep murderer, an' his manner is some torrid, 'that I has five hundred dollars bet on this yere contest–'

"'That is a question,' interrupts Enright, suave but plenty firm, 'which will doubtless prove interestin' to your execooter. This, however, is not the time nor place. I asks ag'in, whatever is your reason for shovin' this yere expert in orthography from shore?'

"'Do you-all think,' returns the Wells-Fargo murderer, 'that I'll abide to see a obscoority like him outspell me?–me, who's the leadin' speller of eight States and two territories, an' never scores less than sixty-five out of a poss'ble fifty? Which I'd sooner die.'

"'So you'd sooner die?' repeats Enright, as cold an' dark an' short as a November day. 'Well, most folks don't get their sooners in this world, but it looks a heap like you will!' Turnin' to Moore, he goes on: 'Our friends from Red Dog'll hold your captive, Jack, while you-all goes rummagin' over to the corral an' gets a rope, the committee havin' come onprovided.'

"Moore gives the Wells-Fargo homicide to the Red-Dog chief, an' tharupon, we Stranglers bein' ready to go into execyootive session, all hands except Enright an' the committee steps outside. We're in confab mebby it's ten minutes, an' Enright has jest approved a yoonanimous vote in favor of hangin', when thar's a modest tap at the door.

"It's the Lightnin' Bug.

"'It ain't,' he says, when we asks his mission, 'that we-all aims to disturb your deelib'rations none, gents, but the chief'd like to borry Doc Peets for five minutes to say a few words over the corpse.'

"Upon this yere hint we-all gambols forth, an' finds what's left of the Wells-Fargo book-keep murderer adornin' the windmill. Thar's whar their del'cacy comes in; that's how them Red Dogs saves us from a disagree'ble dooty.

"We plants Spellin' Book Ben on Boot Hill as per that sufferer's last request, an' Red Dog graces the obsequies to a man. Thar Spellin' Book lies to-day; an' the story of his ontoward takin' off, as told on that tombstone conj'intly erected as aforesaid by Wolfville an' Red Dog, is anyooally read by scores of devotees of learnin' who, bar'-headed an' mournful, comes as pilgrims to his grave."

THE END