JACKS UP ON EIGHTS.
"No; you can hazard your wealth a lot, thar's no sooperstition lurkin' 'round in me or my environs; none whatever.I attaches no importance to what you-all calls omens."Somebody had undertaken a disquisition on dreams, and attempted to cite instances where the future had been indicated in these hazy visions of our sleep.This had served to turn the Old Cattleman's train of thought upon the weird.
"Thar's signs, of course, to which I'd shorely bow, not to say pay absorbin' heed.If some gent with whom I chooses to differ touchin'
some matter that's a heap relevant at the time, ups an' reaches for his gun abrupt, it fills me full of preemonitions that the near future is mighty liable to become loaded with lead an' interest for me.Now thar's an omen I don't discount.But after all I ain't consentin' to call them apprehensions of mine the froot of no sooperstition, neither.I'm merely chary; that's all.
"It's Cherokee Hall who is what I onhesitatin'ly describes as sooperstitious.Cherokee is afflicted by more signs an' omens in carryin' on his business than an almanac.It's a way kyardsharps gets into, I reckons; sorter grows outen their trade.Leastwise Inever creeps up on one yet who ain't bein' guided by all sorts of miracles an' warnin's that a-way.An' sometimes it does look like they acquires a p'inter that comes to 'em on straight lines.As 'llustratin' this yere last, it returns to me some vivid how Cherokee an' Boggs gets to prophesyin' one day, an' how they calls off the play between 'em so plumb c'rrect that a-way, it's more than amazin'; it's sinister.
"It's a hot August day, this occasion I has in mind, an' while not possessin' one of them heat-gauges to say ackerate, I'm allowin'
it's ridin' hard on sech weather as this.A band of us is at the post-office a-wrastlin' our letters, when in trails Cherokee Hall lookin' some moody, an' sets himse'f down on a box.
"'Which you-all no doubt allows you'll take some missives yourse'f this mornin',' says Doc Peets, a-noticin' of his gloom, an' aimin'
to p'int his idees up some other trail.Doc, himse'f, is feelin'
some gala.'Pass over them documents for Cherokee Hall, an' don't hold out nothin' onto us.We-alls is 'way too peevish to stand any offishul gaieties to-day.'
"'Thar's no one weak-minded 'nough to write to me none,' says Cherokee.`Which I remarks this yere phenomenon with pleasure.Mail-bags packs more grief than joy, an' I ain't honin' for no hand in the game whatever.It's fifteen years since I buys a stamp or gets a letter, an' all thirst tharfor is assuaged complete.'
"'Fifteen years is shore a long time,' says Enright, sorter to himse'f, an' then we-alls hops into our letters ag'in.Finally Cherokee breaks in once more.
"` I ain't aimin' to invest Wolfville in no sooperstitious fears,'
says Cherokee, 'an' I merely chronicles as a current event how I was settin' into a little poker last night, an' three times straight Ipicks up "the hand the dead man held," jacks up on eights, an' it wins every time.'
"`Who lose to it?' asks Dan Boggs.
"'Why,' says Cherokee, 'it's every time that old longhorn as comes in from Tucson back some two weeks ago.'
"'That settles it,' says Boggs, mighty decided.'You can bet your saddle an' throw the pony in, Death is fixin' his sights for him right now.It's shorely a warnin', an' I'm plumb glad it ain't none of the boys; that's all.'
"You see this yere stranger who Cherokee alloods at comes over from Tucson a little while before.He has long white ha'r an' beard, an', jedgin' from the rings on his horns, he's mebby a-comin' sixty.He seems like he's plenty of money, an' we takes it he's all right.His leavin' Tucson shows he has sense, so we cashes him in at his figger.Of course we-alls never asks his name none, as askin' names an' lookin' at the brands on a pony is speshul roode in the West, an' shows your bringin' up; but he allows he's called 'Old Bill Gentry ' to the boys, an' he an' Faro Nell's partic'lar friendly.
"'Talkin' to him,' says Nell, ' is like layin' in the shade.He knows everythin', too; all about books an' things all over the world.He was a-tellin' me, too, as how he had a daughter like me that died 'way back some'ers about when I was a yearlin'.He feels a heap bad about it yet, an' I gets so sorry for him; so old an'
white-ha'red.'
"'An' you can gamble,' says Dave Tutt, 'if Nell likes him, he's all right.'
"'If Nell likes him, that makes him all right,' says Cherokee.
"We-alls is still talkin' an' readin over our mail in the post-office, when all at once we hears Jack Moore outside.
"'What's this yere literatoor as affronts my eyes, pasted onto the outside of Uncle Sam's wickeyup?' says Jack, mighty truculent.We.
alls goes out, an' thar, shore-'nough, is a notice offerin' fifteen hundred dollars reward for some sharp who's been a-standin' up the stage over towards Prescott.
"'Whoever tacks this up? I wonder,' says Enright.`It never is yere ten minutes ago.'
"'Well, jest you-all hover 'round an' watch the glory of its comin'
down,' says Jack, a-cuttin' of it loose with his bowie, an' tearin'
it up.'I yerewith furnishes the information cold, this camp of Wolfville knows its business an' don't have to be notified of nothin'.This yere outfit has a vig'lance committee all reg'lar, which I'm kettle-tender tharfor, an' when it comes nacheral to announce some notice to the public, you-alls will perceive me a-pervadin' of the scenery on a hoss an' promulgatin' of said notice viver voce.Am I right, Enright?'
"'Right as preachin', Jack,' says Enright.'You speaks trooth like a runnin' brook.'
"'But whoever sticks that notice?--that's the information I pants for,' says Boggs, pickin' up an' readin' of the piece."'I reckons Iposts that notice some myse'f,' says a big, squar'-built gent we-alls don't know, an' who comes in the other mornin' with Old Monte on the stage.As he says this he's sa'nterin' about the suburbs of the crowd, listenin' to the talk.
