The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1895-08-29
PICKLES UNCLE.

The old cattleman leaned back in his
chair and poised between scornful fingers
the last chapters of cigar.
"No, SON. never did no KILN myself,
but I've stood round an seed folks get
checked clear through, which is more
profitable. calls TO mind KILN down
to old Ike Stockton's. There was big
crowd at Stockton's that June day. The
corrals was full of pack mules, an bull
teams, an wagon trains from the east, an
white men, Mexioans, half Breeds an In
juns was a-mixin an meanderin round,
a-lyin an a-laughin an a-drinkin old Ike's
whisky mighty profuse, -Four or five mule
skinners had their long, timber 16 foot
whips, which are loaded with dust shot
from butt to tip, an was crackin Of 'em at
q mark. I've seen one of 'em with the
most easy, delicate, deliberate twist Of the
wrist make his whip squirm in the air like
a hurt snake, an all at wonst straighten 1t
out with the crack of 30 rifles, an the
buckskin pepper would cut hole In
loose buffalo robe he'd hung up, an all
without investin two ounces of actooal
strength. Several of us was a-lookin on
from the hotel porch applaudin of the good
shots, when Short Creek Dave speaks up
to Jack Moore next to me an says:
" Jack, you mind that old Navajo you
downed over on the San Simon last fall?
" L minds it mighty clear, says Jack.
He was a-stealin my boss at the time, an
kin prove it by his skelp on my bride
right now
Well says Short Greek Dave, point
In to dirty saddle colored half breed who
was maxim himself pretty numerous. that
feller they calls Pickles Is his nephfy, an
you wants to look out whole lot, fer I've
heard him allow that the KILN of his un-
Gle was mighty rank, an he didn't like 1t
nohow'
3" That's all right says Jack. Pickles
an me has ben watchin each other fer an
hour, an I'll tell you-alPs private-if he
goes to pay hoss little bit he an his
uncle will be able to talk things over be-
fore night
"Bimeby Pickles comes along where we
are.
"'Hello, Jaok' he says. Been maxim
1t smoky down in the San Simon latelyp
Ono not since last fall, says Jack.
AN now / thinks of it see that old Nav
aio hoss thief of an uncle of yours when
was down there last. amt met him late
done loped tor
"Cap't say myself, says Pickles, with
a sort of wicked cheerfulness. Our fam
lily had reunion over on Bear creek last
spring, an l couldn't count his nose among
'em nohow. Mebby he had an engage
ment an couldn't git there. Mebby he's
out sloshin round in the high grass some
'ers now. Great man to go round permits
Gus, that Injun was.
"You see, says jack Il didn't know
but he might be dead, cause the time
WAS 'ludin to I was settin In camp one day
an happens to look up, an thar was my
hoss AlaZan, with a perfect stranger on
him. Alazan was a-pitchin an a-buckin
an a-cavortin quite frightful an looks like
he was goin to cripple that stranger shore.
Well, you know me. I'd rather lose two
horses than have q man don't know git
hurt, so grabs my winchester an allows
to kill Alazan. But 1t was a new gun, an
you know what new sights is-coarse as
sand burs-an holds too high, an ketohes
the stranger, bangl right back of his left
year, an the bullet comes outen his right
year. l never was so displeased with my
shootin fer ten years. The idea of me
holdin four foot too high in 100 yards. 1
was so plumb disgusted an ashamed new
or went near the stranger till after I'd fin
ished my grub Alazan, he came up all
shiverin an sweatin an stood there, an in
an hour or so l walks out to the remains,
an when 1 seed 'em they was nothin but
an old digger Injun. You kin drink on it
was relieved. Bein no account Injun
of course didn't paw him over much fer
brands but it struck me at the time 1t
was mighty likely to be your uncle. This
old cuss' skelp is over on my bride If you
think you'd know It,.
'Oh, no, says Pickles, mighty unoon-
sarned, 1t couldn't be my uncle nohow.
If 1t was one of my family, 1t would have
been your ha'r ON his bride, so 1t must
have been some old shorthorn of Mo-
have, you seed. Well, let's all take drink
ON It,
$50 we all went In fer our whisky, Jack
an Pickles watchin each other mighty
close an all the rest of us on the keevee, as
she French say, to hop outen range II they
took TO shootin.
We'll, says Pickles as he seoreted his
nose paint Il must saddle an git out of
here want to see Enright, an l don't
reckon I'll find the old Pine this side of
Prescott either. When do you think you'l ii
leave yourself, JackP
Il don't put 1t up I'll leave for long
time, says Jack; mebby not fur month,
so don't go to maxim any friendly waits
Ger me nowhar on the trail Pickles, cause
you'd most likely run out of water or
somethin before 1 got along
"Bimeby Pickles he gifts saddled up an
comes chargin round on his little buck
skin hoss, outtin all manner of tricks,
reaohin fer things on the ground snatchin
off Mexicans' hats an a-iumDin his pony
over wagon tongues an camp tixin's, all
the time a-whoopin an a-yellin an havin q
high old time all by himself. You could
see he was a-gettln up his blood an nerve
reg lar Injun fashion. Pretty soon he takes
down his rope an goes TO whirlin that
Two or three times he comes flashin by
whar we were, an looked fer TO see him
make try fer Jack. But he was too fai