Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1895-09-14
KINGS FUNERAL.

"This here which I'm mentionin, -
said the old cattleman, twas the first
funeral the town had had. OF course
some of the boys had been downed one
time an another an gone shoutin home
to heaven by various trails, but the re-
mainders had been freighted east an
west every time, an the camp got left.
1t was hard luck, but one day it came
toward us, an thar we were with a
corpse all our n, no partnership with no.
body nor nuthin.
Its the chance Of cur life, said the
postmaster, an we plays it There's
nuthin too rich for our blood, an those
obsequies are goin to be spread eagle,
you bet. Well show Mutt an Rincon an
sech hamlets they amt sign camps COM
pared with Deming.
$50 we begins to draw in our belts
an get big ready. Jack King was the
corpse, emergin out of game Of poker
as such. He'd been peevish an irritable
an pesterin an pervadin round for sew
eral days The town stood heap of
trouble with him AN tried to smooth it
along by givin him his whisky an his
way about as he wanted, hopin for a
change. But man is only human, an
when Jack started in one night to make
a flush beat a tray full for $500 he ask
ed too much.
"There warn't no undertakes, SO we
called the camp to order, an KNOWN
he'd take pride in it, an do the slam up
thing, we put in the postmaster to deal
the game unanimous
" Gentlemen, he said, in assumin
the present pressure l feel the compli-
ments paid me in the selection. / shall
act for the credit of the camp, an need
your help. want theae rites to be a
howlin success. / don't want people
comm around next week allowin there
amt been no funeral, an don t reckon
much they will. We've got the corpse,
an if we fall fiat now it's our fault.
so we pinted Jim Sweet an French
Paul to go to the Santa Fe shops for q
box for Jack an detailed couple Of mig
gers from the corral to dig grave
An mind you alls, said the post
master, Il wants that hole at least q
mile from town. In order to make fu-
neral success you need distance almost
as much as stiff. 1t gives the process
sion chance to spread an show up.
You couldn't make a funeral imposin
an have it in your back yard.
Everything went smooth right off
the reel. We got box an grave all
ready, an the postmaster stuck up no.
tice ON the depot door settin the hilarity
for 8 O'Clock the next day. Prompt at
the drop of the hat the camp let go all
hollis an turned loose in body to put
Jcak through right. He was laid out in
great. shape in the New York store with
nuthin to complain of if he'd been ask
ed to make the kick himself. He'd a
new silk necktie, blue shirt an pearl
buttons, trousers an boots. Some one,
Whisky Sue, I think, had pasted some
court plaster over the hole ON his cheek
bone where the bullet got in, an all
around Jack looked better than ever
saw him.
d" Let the meetin come to order, said
the postmaster, sittin down on a box Of
boots up at Jacks head, IAN, as many as
can, please get something to sit on.
Now, my friends, he continued, thar
amt no need Of my putin on any frills
or gettin in any scroll work. The object
of this convention is plain an straight.
Mr.. King, here present, is dead. De-
ceased was avery headstrong person an
persisted yesterday in entertainin views
as to the value of club flush, queen at
the head, which resulted in life ever
lastin. Now, boys, this is racket full
of solemnity. We want nuthin but good
words. Don't mind about the truth.
Truth amt in play at a funeral nohow.
We all knew Jack. We know his record
how he stole boss at Rincon an rob-
bed a man last fall at Fort Craig; how
he downed man at Cruces, an how
that scar on his neck he got from Wells
Fargo's people when he stopped stage
near Tombstone, but we lays it all aside
today. We don't copper nary bet. At
O'Clock yesterday mornin, accompanied
by a report of a Colts As, Mr. John
King, who lies here SO cool an easy, left
the dance hall an entered in behind the
white, shinin gates Of pearl an gold
which swing inward to glory eternal
1t is great setback at this time there
amt a sky pilot in the camp. 1t saws
big boss onto US, but We'll do our best
AT time like this I've heard that sing
in is good, safe break, an therefore
call on that little gal from Lake Valley
to give us "The Dyin Ranger"
So the little Lake Valley gal cleared
her valves with drink an gives us the
song, an when the entire congregation
drew cards on the last verse it did ev-
erybody good.
'sFar away from his dear old Texas
We laid him down to rest,
With his saddle for pillow
An his gun across his breast.
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