“’It’s the next day before ever I’m firm enough, to come ag’in to Tucson.  This stage-wait in the tragedy is doo to fear excloosive.  I hears how Yuba is plumb bad; how he’s got two notches on his stick; how he’s filed the sights off his gun; an’ how in all reespects he’s a murderer of merit an’ renown.  Sech news makes me timid two ways:  I’m afraid Yuba’ll down me some; an’ then ag’in I’m afraid he’s so popular I’ll be lynched if I downs him.  Shore, that felon Yuba begins to assoome in my apprehensions the stern teachers of a whipsaw.  At last I’m preyed on to that degree I’m desperate; an’ I makes up my mind to invade Tucson, cross up with Yuba an’ let him come a runnin’.  The nervousness of extreme yooth doubtless is what goads me to this decision.

“‘It’s about second drink time in the afternoon when, havin’ donned my weepons, I rides into Tucson.  After leavin’ my pony at the corral, I turns into the main street.  It’s scorchin’ hot an’ barrin’ a dead burro thar’s hardly anybody in sight.  Up in front of the Oriental, as luck has it, stands Yuba and a party of doobious morals who slays hay for the gov’ment, an’ is addressed as Lon Gilette.  As I swings into the causeway, Gilette gets his eye on me an’ straightway fades into the Oriental leavin’ Yuba alone in the street.  This yere strikes me as mighty ominous; I feels the beads of water come onder my hatband, an’ begins to crowd my gun a leetle for’ard on the belt.  I’m walkin’ up on the opp’site side from Yuba who stands watchin’ my approach with a serene mien.

“‘"It’s the ca’mness of the tiger crouchin’ for a spring,” thinks I.

“’As I arrives opp’site, Yuba stretches out his hand.  “Come on over,” he sings out.

“‘"Which he’s assoomin’ airs of friendship,” I roominates, “to get me off my gyard.”

“‘I starts across to Yuba.  I’m watchin’ like a lynx; an’ I’m that harrowed, if Yuba so much as sneezes or drops his hat or makes a r’arward move of his hand, I’m doo to open on him.  But he stands still as a hill an’ nothin’ more menacin’ than grins.  As I comes clost he offers his hand.  It’s prior to my shootin’ quick an’ ackerate with my left hand, so I don’t give Yuba my right, holdin’ the same in reserve for emergencies an’ in case thar’s a change of weather.  But Yuba, who can see it’s fear that a-way, is too p’lite to make comments.  He shakes my left hand with well-bred enthoosiasm an’ turns an’ heads the way into the Oriental.

“‘As we fronts the bar an’ demands nosepaint Yuba gives up his arms; an’ full of a jocund lightheartedness as I realises that I ain’t marked for instant slaughter I likewise yields up mine.  We then has four drinks in happy an’ successful alternation, an’ next we seeks a table an’ subsides into seven-up.

“‘"Then thar ain’t goin’ to be no dooel between us?” I says to Yuba.  It’s at a moment when he’s turned jack an’ I figgers he’ll be more soft an’ leenient.  “It’s to be a evenin’ of friendly peace?”