The Tupelo journal., 1902-10-17

anything but a cow?" Here was his
chance.
sNo, no." grunted he, seeing that
the American was saddling up. 1--WE
will have pony-running; Apache
pony, your horse. You not want
ing? Yes, yesl Apache horse no
sabe run fast, your pony good run
ner. Say, we have drink; you give
Apache chief firewater. We talk"
The American protested. mo, no.
Ny pony can't run, and your Apache
pony is a good 'un."
We Dog piled more whisky, and
more gutteral eloquence.
"Well," the American said, you're
a real sporty sort, and it is a blanked
shame for you to do all the losin'.
Say, believe (hic) we will run just
one little race. But theh must be
some bettin', just to show theh amt
any frost, see? What (hic) will
Apache put up?"
In his glee at having gotten the
white man drunk, and in his GER
tainty of a dead easy thing, Wet Dog
tot NIdD hC WOuld OCb cFcIy-
thing he had-his racer, Blue-Jay,
the bag of silver and turquoises,
everything, in fact, against the Amer
leans three horses and the belong
ings he had just won from him at
poker.
The American agreed, and all pre-
liminaries were quickly arranged;
the race to be ridden by the two
men on their W ponies; distance,
one mile, to q clump of cottonwoods
on the plain ahead; the start to be
given by L%ily-maid. who was shown
how to fire a revolver, which the
American himself loaded for her.
With the white woman o~bligingly
holding the stakes-in which Wet
Dog saw no risks, inasmuch as Lily
maid held both revolver and rifle
the two men got their ponies into
line, the lesser squaws, dogs and po-
MES looking on stolidly from the
background. Then all was still;
meanwhile Lily-maid %nervously ex-
tended the heavy Colt, pulled back
the hammer, and gave a trembling
jerk to the trigger.
Click, bang! and three horses
leaped forward in a binding cloud
of dust. Tense silence reigned for a
moment, then there uprose loud walls
from the squaws, and a second pis-
toll report, which disconnected Wet
Dog as, crouching low on Blue-Jay's
back, he tore along for dear life.
Until the pony was well settled, he
dared not look. When he did so,
however, judge of the vision that
met his dumbfounded eyes.
Disappearing in dust, nearly half
a mile ahead, was the ewe-necked
pinto pony, going like a streak of
lightning, while the woman on his
back, her sun-bonnet vanished, and
wig of long yellow curls dangling
from a closely-cropped masculine
Uranium, made wild and derisive mo-
tons. Steadying the pinto with one
hand, with the other she waved the
Apache's precious bag of dollars and
t~urquoises, meanwhile giving voice
to the most startling and blood
curdling cowboy yells.
Never had Wet Dog seen or heard
anything like it; he stared aghast,
his knees trembling, and yes pop
ping out of his head. Of a truth
must he be crazy, or bewitched!
But, as he stared, the yellow wig
slipped from its last hair-pin, and
scared rejoicingly through the air.
The vanishing red head of Shorty
Smith was therefore barred to the
public, and Wet Dog swore again,
and yet again, as he realized how he
had been duped by his cowboy enc
mics. The other of them, he could
see, was riding close behind, and
oh, horrors!-held a 3s Colt pointed
straight at him! But the chief, who
had not even a knife on his body,
gave forth one warning shout to
Lily-maid. The squaws, however,
having with horror viewed the vel
low s~calp-locks of the fleeing white
woman, and the lack of effect of Lily
maids bullets (all blank, of course),
in turn made a wild stampede for the
ella banks, emitting wild yells of ter
o at every jump. Wet Dog fairly
groaned aloud as he caught a glimpse
OF their fleeing backs.
Of course, he could only throw up
his hands. What else can one do
when confronting a leveled, cooked
pistol? And very DON Wet Dog found
himself ~dismounted, dispossessed of
his beloved pony, handcuffed and
tied stoutly to a cottonwood tree.
Thence he could only glare impo-
tently at the actions of Limping jim
my, who leisurely placed his own sad
die on the pony Blue-Jay, and ar
ranged leading ropes on the other
horses, meanwhile keeping up a run
ming m%onologue on the doping of
ponies, with many pointed illusions
to Apache habits in general, the
characters of Apache chiefs and their
female relatives, and many other
things too numerous and profane for
me to even hint at. Then, with a
patronizing wave of the hand, off
loped Jimmy.
%"Injun must excuse my hurried de-
parture," he stated, sweetly, "for my
partner, ahead there, Mr.. Shorty
Smith, amt no hand at countin', and
he might slip up on them there tur-
quoises. Besides, Mr.. Smith has been
ridin' side-saddle fashion for some
days, and is probably some played
out. So, adios, chief! Coin down
to Gold Gulch any time soon? See
you there later, them"