The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1906-07-20

Joe's legs an trips him up. This Cog
gle Eye Georges eyes stick out like a
shrimps, but when Joe gets up, he
shure puts one OF them back normal.
Just one lick, an Google Eye amt got
no more fight in him than a sheep, but
he don't need TO do his own fghtin',
fur right hyer Black Jack takes b $
hand an plays 1t fur m.
"Gettin' up from the table, where
he's been dealin' stud poker he walks
up TO Joe.
"'Wot do you mean?' he snarled, "a
hittin' of my particular friend?
Joe didn't say anything, just stood
his ground.
"'Well, I'll make you talk" shouts
Black Jack, haulin' off an knockin' Joe
over a couple of chairs.
Seem as I've lived in this country
all my life, hopes knows the ediket
of the plains, the same bein' that
every man skelps his own coyote, but
fur ali that I'm fur jumpin' in If
Tompson don't grab me by the arm.
"'Catch your stirrups afore you go
ldlhPdSAh ihlO any NhAh6 NhiSt hO
says, pushin' me back into the crowd.
At the same time he slips his gun into
his coat pocket. Seem this I'm salts
fed, fur with Tompson's gun coverin'
Black Jack, Joe's as safe as If he't out
on the ranch.
Final Joe picks himself up, brushes
his clothes, an faces Black Jack.
His mouth is bleedin', an there's a
mist over his eyes, but his voice is
steady.
I'm sorry if knocks all the vas-
cline out of your hair, says Black Jack.
GRIMM
Yes, think you will be- says Joe.
You're not goin' to strike me?'
asks Black Jack, like he's alarmed.
No. replied Joe, serious.
"'Well, that takes turrible load off
my mind, buJ mebbe you're goin' TO
shoot me?' h. asks, like he's anxious.
Cs,' says Joe, L think | shall
New you're talkin' like a sport,
even if you amt got the ear marks,
spouts Black Jack, AN I'm remarkin'
there's few wore any holes in their
moccasins seekin' gun practice with
me- an he swells up big
With this he motions the crowd TO
get off the firm line. pulls his gun. an
goes IL the further end of the room.
Joe, he pulls a bulldog 80 he's
raked up somewheres, but keeps on
standin' in the center of the room.
Wot's the matter?' bawls Black
Jack. 'LOsin' your nerve?'
No. says Joe, shakin' his head. I
was Just wonderin' if you wasn't
gOin' to lose your'n. You picks this
quarrei, and you suggests the weapons.
Now, I'm goin' to name the distance.
'Wot's the matter with tnis?' asks
Black Jack.
'Nothin'.' says Joe, only the school
| attends when I'm kid teaches man
ners instead of sharp-shootin', which
same system seems to have been re-
versed where you're brought up. Now
if you will be so kind says Joe, bowin
low, you will step this way
"Wot do you mean? stammers
Black Jack.
L mean, says Joe, cool as a mint
iulip, that this affair is goin' to be
breast 10 breast.
For moment Black Jack looks al
him in surprise, then swallows several
times an hangs his head.
IF he don't except he knows it's his
| finish in the cow country, an likewise
| it's he same If he does, fur even ten
/ derfoOt like Joe can't miss at that
range. Black Jack is a bad man, with
more than one notch in his gun, but he
| don't care run his brand on the little
! slick-ear that's standin' there in the
middle of the room, even If his horns
amt cut of the velvet. He looks
around at the crowd, then seem II
amt 10 use he shoyes his gun in his
! pocket, an goes over an gets his hat
AS he does this, Tompson gives hiss
an though you can see it hurts be
never turns.
BLACK jack Tetlow is a gambler,
says the judge, as we arose and pushed
our chairs against the wall, but he
lets a teEderfoot make him lay down q
cinch."
Copyright, 1906. by Daily Story Pub. Coz