Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-07-20
DOWN IN PIZEN CRICK

The worst man in Pizen Crick numbered
unsteadily out of the swinging door of the
Grubstake Honkatonk. took up his stand in
the middle of the alkali-whitened street
gave both sides of his long, straggly
mustache a flick with the index and middle
fingers of his right hand, threw bis tousied
head back and bawled:
"Yee-ow. yee-ipp-ee! I'm a scar-faced,
razor-fanged timber wolf and this is my
day to cr-r-runch human bones!'
All up and down the street nervous-look-
ing men were to be seen darting through
doors to get under cover. Plainly, they
scented death and disaster in that wild
barbaric yawp Of the bowling terror OF
Pizen Crick camp.
A block away the bald-headed proprietor
of the New You haberdashery store.
which sold blue flannel shirts, bandanna
neckerchiefs. high-heeled boots. tinkle- bell
banded sombreros, spurs and fortyfives.
was to be observed putting up the wooden
shutters in front of his show window. He
wasn't taking any chances.
Three or four distinguishing cowboys,
who had just turned into the street from
the trail when the terror let loose his
initial howl Of defiance turned out Of the
main street when they saw the camp ter
ror standing there in the middle Of the
road. They weren't towards, but they
had seen that bad man in action before.
Pm double-fanged ella reptile. "
there in the middle OF the street. land
can feel the pizen liquor a-purlin' around
my teeth!'
The men who had been drinking in the
sneaking out the back way. and when they
reached the gate at the rear they took up
jog trot and beat it for places Of safety
some hundreds Of yards removed from the
spot where the camp terror was occupying
the middle of the road, breathing fire.
Presently the proprietor Of the Grubstake
Honka tonk hurriedly closed and locked the
front door Of his establishment and then
Immediately Topped to the floor, on all
fours. for fear that fusillade of bullets
from the terror's guns would crash through
the glass. to indicate the terror's wrath
that any rum-mill proprietor would dare to
bolt his place upon him. But the terror OF
the camp was too busy announcing himself
to pay any attention to closing doors.
I'm he-grizzly with the hydrophobia,"
he bawled, rocking himself back and forth.
land this is my day to sharpen my claws
a-pullin' off human heads!
The mayor of the camp. who was rather
deaf. turned into the main street from the
opposite corner just at this stage OF 1t.
When he saw the camp terror lurching
there in the center of the road the mayor
placed a hand back of his ear the better to
catch some Of the terrors words. He
caught few of them and then he turned
right around in his tracks and hustled back
to the place he had come from.
I'm a he-wildcat a-guardin' a litter OF
seven kittens" sang out the bad man.
twiddling his sombrero on one finger as a
stage juggler twiddles china plate, and
Pm a-hankerin' to have hull lot OF bit
ter folks come a-nigh me-!
An outcast yaller dog, pretty perky for all
his outcastness. came prancing and smiling
along the street, tail up, ears alertly for
ward and a general air Of the JOY Of vaga-
bond life about him. But. catching sight
Of the camp terror, the yaller dog raised
his head and turned 1t sideways to listen.
and. catching the last words OF the terror
Of the camp. his tail dropped between his
legs and away he scampered down the
street in the direction from which he came.
yipping at every four or five steps as II a
whiplash were being curled around his legs.
I'm a heap-pizenish water-moccasn Of
the Brazos." continued the w!ckedest and
cruelest man in the camp. and hain't
sunk my fangs in human pelt in so long
that they're a-gittin lonesome!'
A soldier driving a six-mule officers am
bulance from the cavalry post thirty miles
away turned into the street a. the corner
the red-eyed terror of the camp standing
in the middle OF the thoroughfare he
promptly backed his mules. gave them the
blacksnake and prodded them at top speed
in the other direction.
I'm a eight-tusked alligator with the
fires O. the pit a-surgin' through me-"
chanted the camp terror. in his raucous
voice. land I'm achin to bop off eight
bushel O. human arms an laigs!
Just at this point 1t happened.
Overland train No. IA from the east
rolled in at the little deserted 'dobe station
across the way from where the bad man
was standing. and solitary passenger
aIighted from the train.
Obviously. the solitary passenger was
from one of the big cities-probably New
York. for he had the look and makeup Of
a New Yorker. He was modishly attired
in a very light gray suit. with pin-stripe,
and of the very latest cut. He was some
what undersized and slenderly built. But
there was all sorts OF determination In his
eye as, emerging from the 'dobe station
into the brilliant, almost binding sunlight.
he caught sight of the camp bully breath
ing death and desolation in the middle Of
the road.
The newcomer stopped. folded his arms
and gazed disapprovingly at the camp
terror for some time. Then. with species
of nerve that seemed to amaze the bad
man. he called out to him:
Say. what ails you. anyhow"
There stands dead man." mournfuliy
whispered a group OF terrified Pizen
Crickers who were huddied behind the
locked door Of the Grubstake Honkatonk
They had caught the impudent words S SO, OF
and they knew that his life would be for
felt for his temerity.
The. camp terror wheeled in his tracks
ana &aZeu WOuUSTlISly IOK lhCIiCAt a.
the modishly dressed easterner who had
put the queer question to him. Then he
replied:
"Nothin' ails me. sonny. 'ceptin' that I'm
a four-horned toad and this Is my day f'r
camp cleanin'. You're just in time fr
to be cleaned
"Oh, I am, am T." replied the swell-look-
ing slender duck who'd just got off the
train, IN a tone Of derision, and then
But hold on a minute.
Right at this stage of 1t the funnyists
who nudge in the screech-stuf for the
weekly scream-evokers would get in their
fine Etruscan work. They'd narrate how
the dudish looking person who'd got of the
eastern train had walked calmly and
dauntlessly over to the camp terror. slap
PED the bad man two or three times in the
teeth, kicked him on the shins with the
toes of his canvas shoes. pulled out both
of the bad mans guns from his belt.
dumped the bullets from the gun on to
the ground, yanked the terror's red neck
erchief from around his neck and tore 1t
into ribbons ficked the bad mans SOM
brero off his head and sailed it over the
top of shack and then booted him up the
street to the calaboose. while, all this
time, the punctured terror looked startled
and a-skeeart and chapfallen and down In
the mouth and all like that
However when the truth is at stake. the
screech -evokng habit doesn't prevail around
here and facts are facts, in PtZen Crick
just as much so as in the city of Washing