The copper era and Morenci leader., 1912-04-19

Yas, sah; he's whiskers was blowin' round, an I could eben yeah him cussin' he hoss, when he done shy at a man what got up sudden like from 6 cart-wheel he was settin' on. I done took one look at dat secon' fellar, and seed 1t was dat black debble from down Carson way. Den I ducked inta de blacksmith shop out 'er sight I sho' didn't want Mister Hawley to git ! no chance at dis nigger-I sho' didn't. Did they speak to one another?" Keith asked, anxiously. Did you hear what was said ?"
 "Sho' dey talked, MasSa Jack. l sorter reckon dey was dar for dat special purpose, Sutt'nly, sah, dey went right at talkin' like dey had som't'ing on dey minds. OF Massa Waite was a sittin' straight up on de hoss, an dat black debble was a standin' dar in front ob him. or Massa Waite he was mad from de first jump off, an I could heah most eberyting he said, but MT. Hawley he grin de same way he do when he deal faro, an speaks kinder low. De op man he swear fine at him, he call him eberyt'ing-a damn liar, damn scoundrel-but MT. Hawley he jest grin, and say ober de same ting
 What was that Neb?'
 "Som't'ing bout gal, Massa Jack -an' a law sultan how de ol' man better settle up widout no fightin'. jest didn't git de whole ob it, he talked so low like"
 What did Waite say?"
 | n11 ha aaf sho' told dat black debble bout what he thought ob him. but he didn't neb- Der call him Hawley-no, sah, not once; he done call him Bartlett, or someting or odder like dat But he suit 'nly read dat mans pedigree from way back to de time of de flood, I reck'n. An he done swore he'd fight for whatebber it was, papers or no pa- pers. Den Hawley, he got plumb tired ob de oP man swearin' at him, am he grabbed a picter out ob he's pocket, an says, Damn you; look at dat! What kind ob fight can yo' make against dat face?' De oI man stared at it while, sorter chokin' up; den he say softer like: It's Hope; where did yo' ebber get dat?' and de black debble he laughed, an showed de pie ter back into he's pocket Hope, hell!' he say, it's Phyllis, an I'll put her before any jury yo're mind to get-oh, I've got yo' nailed. Waite, dis time.' !"
 Was that all?"
 De or gin'ral he didn't seem ter know what ter say; he done set dar lookin' off ober de prairie like he was clar fumegasted. He sho' did look like dat black debble he'd hit him mighty hard. Den he says slow like, turnin' his boss round: Bartlett, yo' am putin up a good bluff, but, by Gawd. I'm goin' ter call yo'. Yo' don't get a cent ob dat money less yo' put up de proof. I'll meet yo' whar yo' say, but eff I can git hoP ob some pa pers dat's missin' I'll take dat grin of yo' face.' De odder one laughed. an de or gin'ral started fo' ter ride away. den he pull up he's hoss. an look back. 'Yo' sorter herd wid dat kind ob cattle, Bartlett, he say, sharp like, yere called Hawley?' De black debble nebber eben lose he's grin. Do yof mean Black Bart Hawley?' Oats the man, where is he?' Dealin' faro fo' Mike Kenna in Topeka a week ago friend ob yours?' Oats none ob yo' damned business snorted de ol' gin'ral, givin' his hoss de spur. Sho', Massa Jack, he nebber knowed he was talkin' ter dat same Hawley, an dat black debb1e jest laughed as he rode off"
 When was all this, Neb?"
 Bout de time yo' all went up on de hill, I reck'n. done come right yere, and waited"
 Keith walked across the room, se- lected a cigar, and came back, his mind busy with the problem. Hawley had in some manner, then. got into communication with Waite, and was