“On this yere o’casion, thar’s likewise present in Wolfville—­he’s been infringin’ ‘round some three days—­a onsettled an’ migratory miscreant who’s name is Ugly Collins.  He’s in a heap of ill repoote in the territories, this Ugly Collins is; an’ only he contreebutes the information when he arrives in camp that his visit is to be mighty temp’rary, Enright would have signed up Jack Moore to take his guns an’ stampede him a lot.

“At the time I’m talkin’ of, as thar’s no one who’s that abandoned as to go writin’ letters to Ugly Collins, it befalls he’s plenty footloose.  This leesure on the part of Ugly Collins turns out some disastrous for that party.  Not havin’ no missives to read leaves him free to go weavin’ about permiscus an’ it’s while he’s strayin’ here an’ thar that he tracks up on this stranger who’s come after Cherokee.

“Ugly Collins sees our pilgrim in the Red Light an’, except Black Jack,—­who of course is present offishul—­the stranger’s alone.  He’s weak an’ meek an’ shook by a cough that sounds like the overture to a fooneral.  Ugly Collins, who’s a tyrannizin’ cowardly form of outcast, sizes him up as a easy prey.  He figgers he’ll have a heap of evil fun with him, Ugly Collins does.  Tharupon he approaches the consumptive stranger: 

“‘You-all seems plenty ailin’, pard,’ says Ugly Collins.

“‘Which I shore ain’t over peart none,’ retorts the stranger.

“‘An’ you-all can put down a bet,’ returns Ugly Collins, ’I learns of your ill-health with regrets.  It’s this a-way:  I ain’t had no exercise yet this evenin’; an’ as I tracks in yere, I registers a vow to wallop the first gent I meets up with to whom I’ve not been introdooced ;—­merely by way of stretchin’ my muscles.  Now I must say—­an’ I admits it with sorrow—­that you-all is that onhappy sport.  It’s no use; I knows I’ll loathe myse’f for crawlin’ the hump of a gent who’s totterin’ on the brink of the grave; but whatever else can I do?  Vows is vows an’ must be kept, so you might as well prepare yourse’f for a cloud of sudden an’ painful vicissitoodes.’

“As Ugly Collins says this he kind o’ reaches for the invalid gent where he’s camped in a cha’r.  It’s a onfortunate gesture; the invalid—­as quick as a rattlesnake,—­prodooces a derringer, same as Doc Peets allers packs, from his surtoot an’ the bullet carries away most of Ugly Collins’ lower jaw.

“‘You-all is goin’ to be a heap sight more of a audience than a orator yereafter, Collins,’ says Doc Peets, as he ties up the villain’s visage that a-way.  ‘Also, you oughter be less reckless an’ get the address of your victims before embarkin’ on them skelp-collectin’ enterprises of yours.  That gent you goes ag’inst is Doc Holliday; as hard a game as lurks anywhere between the Slope an’ the Big Muddy.’

“Does the Stranglers do anything to this Holliday?  Why, no, not much; all they does is present him with a Colt’s-44 along with the compliments of the camp.