The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1901-06-01
A CHANCE SHOT,
BY II. w. PHILLIPS.

d Teddy and I were alone at the
cabin braiding aleather hat band
eight strands and the repeat" fig
ure--an art that never could master.
sat inside, with one-pound
package of Bull Durham" tobacco
beside me, and newspapers within
reach, rolling the days supply Of
cigarettes.
Reddy stopped his story long
enough to say: Don't use the Mis-
souri, Coyote kid-that paper burns
my tongue - take the 'Pioneer;'
there's plenty of it," Well, as was
saying. I'd met a lot of the boys up
in town this day, and they threw rs
many as two drinks into me: ! know
that for certain, because when we
took the parting dose had glass of
whisky in each hand, and had just
twice as many friends as when l
started.
When / pulled out for home l felt
mighty good for myself-not exactly
looking for trouble; but not a-going
to dodge it any, either. l was war
bling Idaho" for all ! was worth
you know how pretty ! can sing.
Cock-eyed Peterson used to say it
made him forget all his troubles.
Because" says he, ''you don't notice
it when a man bats you over the head
with two-by-four."
Well, | was enjoying everything in
sight, even little drizzle of rain
that was driving by i'm rags of wet
ness. when n fiat-faced swatty at Fort
johnson halted me.
Now. it's a dreadful thing to be
butted to death by "a nanny goat, but
for full-sized cow puncher to be
held up by soldier is worse yet.
TO say that | was hot under the
collar don't give you the right idea of
the way ] felt.
"Why, you cross between the last
rose of summer and bob-tailed
flush" says l, what dyer mean?
What's got into you? Get out of my
daylight, you dog robber, or I'll walk
the little horse around your neck like
a three-ringed circus--come. get a
move, and pull your freight"
1t seemed that this swatty had been
chucked out of the third story Of
Frenchy's dance emporium by Bronc.
Thompson, which threw great re-
spect for our profesh into him. Con-
sequently he wasn't fresh like most
soldiers, but answers me as polite as
tin-horn gambler on pay day.
Says he: 81 just wanted to tell
you that old Frosthead and 40 braves
are some'ers between here and your
outfit. with their war paint on, and
blood in their eyes, cayoodling and
whoopin' fit TO beat the band, and IL
you get tangled up with them reckon
they'll give you haircut and sham
poo, to say nothing of other trim
mings. They say they're after the
last year birds nest that they'll take
on any kind of trouble that comes
along. Their hearts is mighty bad,
they state. and when an Injun's heart
gets spoiled, the disease is infectious
you'd better stop awhile"
Snow, cuss old Frosthead and you,
tool" says /. IF ne comes cow-hop-
ping OH NY i u MIN HIS
pantalettcs on top of his scalp-lock."
"All right pardner!" says he. Its
your own funeral My orders was to
halt everyone going through; but I
amt whole company, so you can
have it your way. Only. il your
friends have to take you home in n
coal-scuttle, don't blame me. Pass,
friendi"
So / went through the officers
quarters 40 miles an hour letting out
a string of yells you might have heard
to the coast, just to show my respect
for the United States army.
Now this has always been my luck:
Whenever make band wagon play,
somebody's sure to strike me for my
license. Or else the team goes into
the ditch a mile further on, and I
come out about as happy as a small
yaller dog at a bobcats caucus.
Some fellers can run in n shiny ca
boo that nd make the hair stand up
on a buffeler robe, and get away with
IL just like mice; but that amt me.
If ] sing little mite too high in the
cellar, down comes the roof atop of
me. So IL was this day. Old Johnny
Hardluck socked it to me. same az
usual