“‘Colt’s six-shooter,’ says Enright.

“‘That’s straight,’ says the pin-feather party, buttonin’ up his sleeve; ‘you calls the turn.  I wins out that abrasion pleadin’ with the old gent.  Which I tackles him twice.  The first time he opens on me with his 44-gun before ever I ends the sentence.  But he misses.  Nacherally, I abandons them marital intentions for what you-all might call the “nonce” to sort o’ look over my hand ag’in an’ see be I right.  Do my best I can’t on earth discern no reasons ag’in the nuptials.  Moreover, the lady—­who takes after her old gent a heap—­cuts in on the play with a bluff that while she don’t aim none to crowd my hand, she’s doo to begin shootin’ me up herse’f if I don’t show more passionate anxiety about leadin’ her to the altar.  It’s then, not seein’ why the old gent should go entertainin’ notions ag’in me, an’ deemin’ mebby that when he blazes away that time he’s merely pettish and don’t really mean said bullet none, that I fronts up ag’in.’

“‘An’ then,’ asks Enright, ‘whatever does this locoed parent do?’

“‘Which I jest shows you what,’ says the pin-feather party.  ’He gets the range before ever I opens my mouth, an’ plugs me.  At that I begins to half despair of winnin’ his indorsements.  I leaves it to you-all; be I right?’

“‘Why,’ says Enright, rubbin’ his fore’erd some doobious, ’it would look like the old gent is a leetle set ag’in you.  Still, as the responsible chief of this camp, I would like to hear why you reckons Wolfville is a good place to elope to.  I don’t s’ppose it’s on account of them drunkards over in Tucson makin’ free with our good repoote an’ lettin’ on we’re light an’ immoral that a-way?’

“‘None whatever!’ says the pin-feather party.  ’It’s on account of you wolves bein’ regyarded as peaceful, staid, an’ law abidin’ that I first considers you.  Then ag’in, thar ain’t a multitood of places clost about Tucson to elope to nohow; an’ I can’t elope far on account of my roll.’

“The replies of this pin-feather party soothes Enright an’ engages him on that side, so he ups an’ tells the ‘swain,’ as Colonel Sterett calls him later in the Coyote, to grab off his inamorata an’ come a-runnin’.

“‘Which, givin’ my consent,’ says Enright when explainin’ about it later, ’is needed to protect this tempest-tossed lover in the possession of his skelp.  The old gent an’ that maiden fa’r has got him between ’em, an’ onless we opens up Wolfville as a refooge, it looks like they’ll cross-lift him into the promised land.’

“But to go back to Dave.”

Here my old friend paused and called for refreshments.  I seized the advantage of his silence over a glass of peach and honey, to suggest an eagerness for the finale of the Tucson love match.

“No,” responded my frosty friend, setting down his glass, “we’ll pursoo the queernesses of Dave.  That Tucson elopement ’is another story a heap,’ as some wise maverick says some’ers, an’ I’ll onload it on you on some other day.