, 1884-08-28
A DUDE IN DAKOTA.
The Fun lie Made for a Montana Cow
boy Ia u Fargo Saloon.


What that
The question came from a long haired,
big-hatted, leather-coated, wild-cyed
specimen of a Montana cowboy, who
carried a belt full of revolven and an odor
of bovine impurity about him. He stood
up before the bar of a Broadway saloon
the other day, and as he spoke tipped his
head in the direction Of a pale faced. hol-
low-eyed chap who was leaning against
the other end of the bar, tapping the
pointed Toe Of his patent-leather shoe
carelessly with n light complexioned rattan
cane.
That's i dude, replied the bar
tender.
"A dude, repeated the cowboy, while
a peculiar grin began to dispense itself
over his sunbrowned features; "A dude, is
it2 I've heard o them things, but | never
got my lockers on one o them before; it's
a dandy, amt it? Make a good toothpick,
would III Jest size yer %critter, will yer?
Look at them ar legs o his'n; I'm a Stun
million ell don't spit terbacker juice all
over EN- lookin' glass shoes. With this
the cowboy expectorated u deluge of
nicotine humidity in the direction of the
dudes pedals, that made them look as if
they had Just beer pulled out of the man
hole of a ever. The dude slowly changed
positions and lighted a cigarette, which
he carclessly pulled without looking in the
direction of the cowboy.
Amt very lively, is hep" said the
Montana brick to the barkeeper, who was
a grinning auditor.
No, he's probably blushed at some
thing, and been weakened by the exer-
tion.
"Say, Jest watch me. I'll wake him
up and the cowboy moved in the direc-
ton of the dude and brought one of his
pancake clutches down on his shoulder
with force hat threatened to drive him
through the floor Say, pardner," said
ne, suppose we drink ?"
"Oh, l don't care much about dwink-
ing, replied the dude.
20, yer don't Wal, l guess yer better
turn round and take er gulp."
"A thousand thanks, my deah iellah,
out WEAKLY | have no appetite for dwink
this mawning.
Better take sumthin', - urged the COW
boy, with a cross-eyed look, as he fondled
the butt of Il navy in his belt.
We'll, then, waitah, please give me a
verwy, verwy light lemonade and a silva %
Better take whisky"
No, | thank YOU, sir, | never dwink
Better begin right now, then
"Oh, nav, sir, | couldn't think Of
it,"
wall, you drink whisky or IN daub
you all over the walls.
But, really, sir
None o yer sl~im-legged gable here,
yer1l drink whisky or III begin oper-
ashuns Immediately
but, WEAKLY. sir
Amt yer goin' ter take it?''
20. nav, my deah fellah, | couldn't
think Of it, yer naw.
20, yer couldn't? yer pin-shanked,
samp eatin' ghost, yer. I'll learn you to
refuse good stuff when it's offered yer, "
and the cowboy extended his right trigger
puller in the direction of the dudes SMELL
ing machine, but it failed to connect.
The dude seemed to have suddenly re-
covered his senses and when his left hand
stopped on the cowboys cheekbone the
latter lay down in a han1y corner to catch
his breath. With a yell that made the legs
Of the pool table quake, the COW puncher
leaped to his feet and made for the dude.
There was a collision. The air was
filed with Montana cuss words.
One boot, ornamented with a
Mexican spur, flew over into the
corner and broke the jaw ola fellow who
was snoring away the effects of a premedi-
tated drunk. Strips of leather coat got
caught in the brass-mounted chandelier.
mixed hair and blood frescoed the ceiling,
revolvers went whizzing under the stove
and hid behind the beer kegs. The col
lision lasted about three minutes. when
the remnants of the cowboy were jammed
down in a corner in an unconscious state.
Readjusting his cravat, the dude laid a
chunk of chewing gum down on the bar
and said: Now, deah fellah, give me a
glass of seltzah with a drop oflemon in it.
That is WEAKLY the hardest work l have
done since | played first base in the Yale
nine"