The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-09-12
EN- the old man kicked like a steer,

'em the old man kicked like steer,
but l never weakened.
''Well, when he offered me one hun
dred and twenty-five dollars, as a kind
of compromise | started to move over
to our corral, and then the old skin
called me back and said it was 60.
Then come the stickin' point-we
didn't carry greenbacls loose in our
clothes no more'n we did ink-an'
when the old man suggested maxim
out check, which | knowed was good
as gold, l near had fit. Well, he
smoothed me down an at last l told
him to fork over his check. Of course
he didn't have none an he said he'd
left his check book at Rockville, but
that he'd give me something just as
good. Well, sir, we had the toughest
time you ever saw huntin' pencil and
bit of paper. At last we did scratch
up a pencil, but there wasn't no paper
in the whole outfit, them cowboys not
bein' of literary turn of mind an no
mail carriers passin' that way. There
wasn't much use O. writin' letters.
Old Pete wasn't done up so easy-so,
SEEM tenderfoot among his herders
what was sporting paper collar, he
ordered him take it off immejiet, an
said he wasn't a-goin' to have no
blasted dudes among his men. When
the Teller was out of sight, he sat
fdown an writ his order on that collar,
Slike this:
Cashier OF the First National Bank, Chey-
enne: Pay to Doc Reister within the next six
days one hundred and fifty dollars for six
ponies traded for near Laramie Park, Wyom-
ing. Reister is a short skinny man, about six
feet six, with long hook nose.
pete LEACH"
''This was writ on the paper side of
the collar, an remember the old man
tearing the cloth backin' off an sayin:
If that didn't go to write him at Rock
vile Three days after that we was in
Cheyenne, an tell you l had time
| tryin' to make that dude back of them
bars in that there bank give me my
one hundred and fifty dollars. They
KEEP me standin' up there bout half an
hour, an lot of men come an looked
at me like was some wild animal es-
capped from a show. At last, when l
was gettin' red hot, they showed me
into back room where six or seven
gents were sittin', an they asked me
| to swear all kinds of swears that / was
myself. Then an old gent with white
| hair, lookin' for all the world like a
| Sunday-School uperintendent, who
'peared to boss the whole shootin'
match, stood up an speechifed bout
my probably bein' the right party, an
then he kind O. winked at the cashier,
an remarked that my features were
pretty good proof. Then he picked up
that dirty paper collar with two fin
gers, like it was goin' to bite him-an'
it hadn't got any cleaner in my jeans
an he said:
1--WE have warned Mr.. Leach about
maxim out checks like this, and have
told him we would not honor them.
This once we will make an exception,
but it must be the last
Then he nodded to the cashier, an
! he planked out the one hundred and
| fifty dollars.
The next spring l went back to
\ that there bank in Cheyenne, an
there was that dirty old greasy paper
collar check with a nice white paper
| border an fine wooden frame around
it, arranging over the desk where they
KEEP the pens and ink, long with the
real decent checks.
That payin' teller knowed me, an
he nodded up toward that there frame
an said somethin about it havin' beer
honored an bout the man what hac
writ it havin' two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars to back it right il
their safe.
dispose that laundried dude thought
he was tellin' me somethin' l didn't
know, but l had drove cattle mysel.
for old Pete Leach five years before
an 1 think ought a knowd what his
check was good for if it was writ or
| an old paper collar "-Philadelphia