The Dismissal of Silver Phil.

“His name, complete, is ‘Silver City Philip.’  In them social observances of the Southwest wherein haste is a feacher an’ brev’ty the bull’s eye aimed at, said cognomen gets shortened to ‘Silver Phil.’”

The Old Cattleman looked thoughtfully into his glass, as if by that method he collected the scattered elements of a story.  There was a pause; then he lifted the glass to his lips as one who being now evenly equipped of information, proposed that it arrive hand in hand with the inspiration which should build a tale from it.

“Shore, this Silver Phil is dead now; an’ I never yet crosses up with the gent who’s that sooperfluous as to express regrets.  It’s Dan Boggs who dismisses Silver Phil; Dan does it in efforts he puts forth to faithfully represent the right.

“Doc Peets allers allows this Silver Phil is a ‘degen’rate;’ leastwise that’s the word Peets uses.  An’ while I freely concedes I ain’t none too cl’ar as to jest what a degen’rate is, I stands ready to back Peets’ deescription to win.  Peets is, bar Colonel William Greene Sterett, the best eddicated sharp in Arizona; also the wariest as to expressin’ views.  Tharfore when Peets puts it up, onflinchin’, that this yere Silver Phil’s a degen’rate, you-all can spread your blankets an’ go to sleep on it that a degen’rate he is.

“Silver Phil is a little, dark, ignorant, tousled-ha’red party, none too neat in costume.  He’s as black an’ small an’ evil-seemin’ as a Mexican; still, you sees at a glance he ain’t no Greaser neither.  An’ with all this yere surface wickedness, Silver Phil has a quick, hyster’cal way like a woman or a bird; an’ that’s ever a grin on his face.  You can smell ‘bad’ off Silver Phil, like smoke in a house, an’ folks who’s on the level—­an’ most folks is—­conceives a notion ag’in him the moment him an’ they meets up.

“The first time I observes Silver Phil, he’s walkin’ down the licker room of the Red Light.  As he goes by the bar, Black Jack—­who’s rearrangin’ the nosepaint on the shelf so it shows to advantage—­gets careless an’ drops a bottle.

“‘Crash!’ it goes onto the floor.

“With the sound, an’ the onexpected suddenness of it stampedin’ his nerves, that a-way, Silver Phil leaps into the air like a cat; an’ when he ‘lights, he’s frontin’ Black Jack an’ a gun in each hand.

“‘Which I won’t be took!’ says Silver Phil, all flustered.

“His eyes is gleamin’ an’ his face is palin’ an’ his ugly grin gets even uglier than before.  But like a flash, he sees thar’s nothin’ to go in the air about—­nothin’ that means him; an’ he puts up his hardware an’ composes himse’f.

“’You-all conducts yourse’f like a sport who has something on his mind,’ says Texas Thompson, who’s thar present at the time, an’ can’t refrain from commentin’ on the start that bottle-smashin’ gives Silver Phil.

“This Silver Phil makes no response, but sort o’ grins plenty ghastly, while his breath comes quick.