Evening star., 1895-06-15
THEY MADE 1T UP
BY ALFRED HENRY LEWIS.

Written Exclusively for The Evening Star.
1.-THE eastern notions of the west" said
the old cattleman, 'fs away off its reserva-
ton. 1 frequent hears people discussin' of
the west like it was murder, straight, an
lynchin' for place. from one Christmas
to the next. This yere is heap erroneous,
an most likely the distinguishin' feature of
| the western camps is their heavenly calm.
Now an then some little dissension as to
roofs in poker er the title to a steer will
spring up an bullets for minute may
ockepy the air like swallow birds. I've
knowed seven people quit Wolfville for
the realms of bliss, all in one day, an
Wolfville warn't no metropolis neither,
but recalls this now as mighty unusual.
Generally the number is two. three being
quite a shipment.
'It amt alters people shoot when they
urges, an my mem'ry can round up
| heap of instances which begins in some
steep an declivitious oratory an has its
| wind-up in scenes as would soothe child
| to sleep. I might relate an accident in
pint.
1T was about eight years back in his
| tory of that camp an you could a-throwed
a rope round Wo1fville, 1t was that small,
! an drug it with pony. 1t was some
| effervesent though, an among other inn
provements it had dance hall, which was
| owned by one Colonel Boone. This yere
Boone was called the king Of the cow
| boys, but wherefore outstacks me COM
plete. AS a fact Boone wasn't king OF
nuthn'.
There was big crowd in the dance hall
the night I thinks Of, an all sorts of
games, from monte up an down, was goin',
an at the back end jim-crow niger was
amin to sing some. Down near the front
by the bar stands tenderfoot, an he's
fortunate to be some five drinks ahead,
an is loudly maxim of communication to
| a This Sh0rthOrn don't
gun, 1t bein law to give your Gatlin' to the
barkeep the minute you comes in. While
he's maxim some views known to his
comdder, beholds n little, ugly man stand
in near him with his gun on, an havin'
idees for harmony, this yere person, who
was bowled up all similar to the shorthorn,
lets on he likes to hear the niger. This
| mans name is Nine Mile Peter, an, onless
| my menyr is shootin' at the wrong target,
altogether, he makes record Of two men
when he's dep'ty marshal of Red Dog
Anyhow, Nine Mile Peter has filed the
sight often his siX-shooter years before,
an was regarded bad. All on the sudden
he gets mighty outrageous about this
tenderfoot's talkin', an wants him to de-
sfst a lot.
" Stick period in this yere pow-wow,'
says Nine Mile Peter to the tenderfoot. I
wants to hear this yere niger sing
" This yere conversation Is goin' on
says the tenderfoot, his five drinks a-Inak-
in OF him soopercilious. There's no hob
bIes onto you; IL you're Jest sobbir' to hear
the niger sing, go for'ard an hold him in
your lap, If you wants to- But don't hand
no bluff about this talk I makes, or IN
chore call it,
IF you disturbs me a-listenin' to this
melody, says Nine Mile Peter IN lest
crawl your hump; that's whatever
Them people who is heretofore blind
cnuf to plan sech frivolites with me- saws
the tenderfoot, fs now looked on as lucky
TO be alive, so don't go temptin' fate by a
pesterin' of me none, cause the outlook's
dark
with this Nine Mile Peter. thinkjn, t,s.
down to cases, jumps back an starts his
gum but it somehow sticks in the scabbard
an he don't get it at first. looks to see
the shorthorn canter right off, cause he
didn't have a siX-shooter, but he don't. He
stays right thar an begins to talk.
You're mighty brisk with your 49, he
says, when you sees 1 amt got none. I
reckon if had gun now 1 could make
you yell like coyote
"'All right says Nine Mile Peter If you
amt got pistol You get one quick FL
whereupon we sees about yellin',' and with
that he pushes his gun into the scabbard
again an looks at the shorthorn.
We'll, jest as sech things happens right
as Nine Mile Peter promulgates this Boone
Is goin by the tray of drinks, an stuck in
the waistband of his legsins is Colts As,
the same bein', for reason he don't dis
close, his constant practice. As Boone
chasees by the gun is stickin' out plenty
temptin, an the shorthorn makes a swoop
an gets it, an with the same motion p'ints
oe MS LUG StoihdCu du says, mighty
cheerful:
Now, get your stack right in, son, I'm
heeled' "
Nine Mile Peter begins to turn green at
this, an SEEM the tenderfoot's got the
drop he don't move, which is all proper
enuf, too.
Il never knowed but one man who has
the nerve to pull his six-shooter at close
quarters when the other man has the drop
An I've knowed men as bad as Clay AIIi-
son. Mace Bowman an Billy Bonny who
cheerfully refrains therefrom Cane Will
ingham pints his gun at Tom Harris once
with Toms back his way an Tom turns
round an makes it stand-off Cane didn't
have the nerve to shoot an he was the
Panhandle sheriff, too.
But to return to Nine Mile Peter, an
that sot of a shorthorn. Well, the tender
foot continues to stand his hand; Nine Mile
Peter don't do nuthin while Boone sets
his tray onto the bar an dances round the
rim of the rumpus demandin' of his
weepon.
'Whateyer is the row about anyhow
says Boone, strayin' off about eight feet
mighty Uneasy for fear he gets hit for
it's people who amt in it, like Boone, gets
creased frequent.
Why, nuthin', says the shorthorn, only
this yere Cimmaron allows he'll run this
bale, regarding of it as easy probably,
which he's fooled lot
There you be agin', says Boone .aimin'
to shed blood an no reason at ALL Now.
both of you come up to the bar an take
drink on me an that ends it,
so the tenderfoot an Nine Mile Peter