The San Francisco call., 1897-01-02
THE COW PUNoHER's STORY.

ELECTED From the Poet.
when we were talking about scars the
other day." said the returned Cow
Puncher, ''did L tell you about this one on
my tinger?'
Forgot that, guess" said the Boys
Own Story Writer.
Hadn't made it up yet. you mean,"
sneered the Poet. ."It ought to be good
one. He's had a week to work it up in"
The poet, it may be well TO explain. had
been indulglng in late suppers of 'lob'
and beer, Is diet which is guaranteed to
produce a state of mind favorable to
| poetry.
Almost anything Is favorable to poetry
| provided it is indigestible enough, and
LOB" (Which is TO say lobster) and beer
| answer these requirements so we'll that
| the Poet almost invariably counts on
| them for sonnet, whereas a Welsh rab-
bit produces only quatrain or rondeau.
However, patrons though they may be
| of modern poetry, LOB" and beer are
pretty hard on friendship. Things have
been said against the society of poets and
| of pessimists. taken singly. When it
comes to taking both in the same dose it
might truly be called allopathic. All of
which is necessary to explain the Poets
state of mind Tie Cow Puncher was
serenely indifferent.
NO, he SAID rehectively, '1t isn't much
of story. If | really put my MIND to it
l think | could make up better one; but
truth is something after ALL 1t happe ned
| thus way. l was sitting In our cabin writ
ing letter"
"a love letter." from the Poet
Right you arep' said the unabashed
Cow Puncher. And it was better one
than you ever wrote, too! Ii | could
make collection of the love letters which
Uncle Sam brings away from those des-
erts and mountains out there I'd give you
| poets and noyelists material that would
| last you one while, and that's straight
You don't know what love is, with yonr
| namby -pamby FEELINGS based on your cal
cuIations as 10 how much it cost for two
| people to live in New York ]"
| The Cow Puncher showed every symp-
! tom OF being excited, but he disappointed
the Poet. The Poet ely has great emo
! tion himself, but he makes good deal of
copy out of the emotions into which other
people are betrayed in his presence. The
Cow Pnncher suddenly cooled off, how
ever, after fashion OF his own.
Texas is great State, he remarked,
and lighted a cigarette.
How about tnat SCARF" said the Boys
Own.
well, 1 was going to tell you. AS 1
said, / was sitting there writing letter-a
| tickle my left hand, which was resting Oh
the table. | kind OF moved il a little, in
voluntarily. l didn't think anything
about l.. Supposed 1t was fly. But in a
few minutes my finger began to pain me,
and when l looked in that direction there
| II You please, was vinlgaroon sitting
| there and fattening on my blood. What's
| a vinigaroon? Well, The Mexicans call
'em sure DEATH and in about five min
| utes l was ready to believe they deserved
the name. My hand swelled and turned
black. In few hours my whole arm was
swollen and as black as my coat-or my
prospects.
Il dion't know what to do for the
blamed thing and was miles from every
| where anu every ything except the vine
garoon, which l had promptly killed on
| principle. l smoked and walked the floor
and tried to think OF things | had read
about what to do in emergencies, but the
only course OF treatment could remem-
Der was 10 roll the patient on barrel.
That didn't seem to ut my case, and, be-
sides, who would do the rolling, anyway.
The fellows had all gone off to the ranch,
where We occasionally put III our Sundays,
and my only hope was that some of them
would come home during the day instead
OF waiting until night.
About the middle of the afternoon an
old plainsman came Looping along, and /
about my difficulty. Tnose old fellows
never took any course in first aid TO the
| injured, but they could give a whole lot
OF lectures on What to Do When You We
Got Any Old Thing the Matter With
You He looked at my hand, and then
he said
ION, yes! we'll fix that all rightp
He whipped out hi, knife and whistled
happily 10 himself the while. First he
| made a iengthwlse cut where the bite was
and then he made a crosswise cut in the
same spot. Then he pulled the skin well
back SO as to leave a good opening, and,
taking his powder horn he poured good
charge of gunpo@der into the cut. He
kept right ON whistiing, too, as he
scratched match and waited for it to get
into good blaze. Then he made me hold
my hand out good distance, touched off
he gunpowder. and there l was. He
cleaned it out and dressed it, and although
had TO hold my hand up in a sling above
my head for several days, Pm none the
worse for the experience, except for that
scar'
The Boys Own coughed with some en-
barrassment as the Cow Pun cher finished.
That's very interesting" he said.
Couldn't you do better than that ?"
growIed the Poet. latter whole weeks
proparation?'
mo. nor after whole years, either"
said the Cow Puncher. "It's over year
since it happened"
WELL" observed the Poet, ''as our
guileless friend here remarked, it is very