The Sunday morning news., 1891-11-29
THE MAN WHO DRAGGED.
A Lively Story from the Wilds OF
the WOoly West.

Ills name was Phineas Ellsworth, but
we boys at the "HX" ranch called him
Billy Brag, for reasons which ten min
utes' conversation with him would make
obvious, even to a total stranger. To
say that he was opinionated is drawing
it very mild, and to state that the chief
est of his opinions was the particularly
excellent one he held of himself is super
huous
Those were humdrum, monotonous
days at the 'sHX," and there was scant
opportunity for Billy to exhibit the
courage. prowess, skill, ability, and SO
forth, which--we had his own oft re-
peated statements for it-he possessed
to remarkable degree.
Once in awhile something would hap
pen to relieve the monotony but Billy,
somehow or other, was never ON deck to
show what he was worth. He always
turned up afterward with: "Huhl you
galoots jes make me ache all over! Wy
any bloonain tenderfoot cd tor ye bet
tern thatr' or, "That wuz fool trick.
Now, eff I'd been thar I'd a did so an
so;' OF, ''Huh! dye call that anythin ter
menshun? Wy, back thar, on tn Keya
Paha, we used t. let tn kids an wimmen
do that kind O work"
And SO it went for nearly year, and
though we invented many plan to give
Billy an opportunity to show his worth,
he managed, on one pretext or another,
to keep out of our snares.
One day Gale Smelling. who was out
looking up some stays, fell in with a
Maverick steer feeding in coulee, and
thinking at first that it was an "HX''
critter rode toward it. But the beast
was what is known as ''bad un," and
horns down and believing with rage he
turned and charged on the startled
cowboy. Gale tried to turn his pony and
run, but the animal was green and only
reared and snorted. Gale thought he
was about to take place herding clouds,
but he yanked his gun and let go, catch
ing the steer right between the eyes,
and dropping it not more than ten feet
away.
Gale was bit new in the business. and
| he was rather pale when he rode up to
the ranch and related his experience, but
there was triumphant tone in his voice
as he told of his successful shot from the
back of bucking pony.
Billy listened with superior air
"Huhv' he remarked disdainfully
"whad'je wanter kill i'm fer? Ye cd jes
| z well creased an roped i'm. Some folks
never hev no r'gard fer prop'ty. Waste
not, want nothin."
We all groaned and proceeded to con
gratulate Gale on his luck, but Bill did
not seem to care. He was getting used
to our irreverence. 1t may be noted
however, that when we tried next morn
| ing to get Billy to take a galloping shot
at the stripe in blanket nailed onto {
shed door, to see how near he coulc
have come to ''creasing" mad steer
from the back of a fool pony, our propo
sition met with scorn. There ye gc
agin," said Billy. whats th' blame
use O. wastin er whole lot O. cartridges
| ies' t. convince er mess O. gabblin egiot!
that er thing kin be did? Aw, go off al
| try poundin san in her rat hole fer yel
wits. Bet ye carn't even do that" An(
he rode of, much offended.
When Joe Fleming, brother of tht
boss, and Hank Barr had brush with
half u dozen Indians, and just escaped
with their lives, leaving bunch of fa
cattle to be run off by Uncle Sans dear
sweet proteges, Billy's opinion was a
once forthcoming. "Huh! Ye mou
les z well saved mos o tn critters ~