Faro Nell and Her Friends - Wolfville Stories

mazong - Alfred Henry Lewis , W. Herbert Dunton , J. N. [Illustrator] Marchand

Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe
Tout savoir sur nos offres

129 pages

English

Le téléchargement nécessite un accès à la bibliothèque YouScribe
Tout savoir sur nos offres

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Informations

Publié par	mazong
Publié le	08 décembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	23
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Extrait

Project Gutenberg's Faro Nell and Her Friends, by Alfred Henry Lewis
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Faro Nell and Her Friends
Wolfville Stories
Author: Alfred Henry Lewis
Illustrator: W. Herbert Dunton
J. N. Marchand
Release Date: July 22, 2009 [EBook #29485]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FARO NELL AND HER FRIENDS ***
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.netWE MAKES FOUR TRIPS BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN WOLFVILLE AND RED DOG, CRACKIN'
OFF OUR GOOD OLD '45'S AT IRREG'LAR INTERVALS, FARO NELL ON HER CALICO PONY AS
THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY, BUSTIN' AWAY WITH THE REST. Frontispiece. p. 170.
FARO NELL
AND HER FRIENDS
WOLFVILLE STORIES
BY
ALFRED HENRY LEWIS
AUTHOR OF "WOLFVILLE," "WOLFVILLE DAYS," "WOLFVILLE NIGHTS," "WOLFVILLE
FOLKS," "THE BOSS," "THE SUNSET TRAIL," "THE APACHES OF
NEW YORK," "THE STORY OF PAUL JONES," ETC.ILLUSTRATIONS BY
W. HERBERT DUNTON AND
J. N. MARCHAND
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1913, By
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
Faro Nell and Her Friends
THIS BOOK
IS DEDICATED TO
WILLIAM EUGENE LEWIS
AS MARKING
MY APPRECIATION OF
WHAT QUALITIES PLACE HIM HIGH
AMONG THE BEST EDITORS
BEST BROTHERS AND BEST MEN
I'VE EVER MET
A. H. L.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I DEAD SHOT BAKER 7
II OLD MAN ENRIGHT'S UNCLE 39
III CYNTHIANA, PET-NAMED ORIGINAL SIN 61
IV OLD MONTE, OFFICIAL DRUNKARD 99
V HOW THE MOCKING BIRD WAS WON 126
VI THAT WOLFVILLE-RED DOG FOURTH 148
VII PROPRIETY PRATT, HYPNOTIST 176
VIII THAT TURNER PERSON 198
IX RED MIKE 225X HOW TUTT SHOT TEXAS THOMPSON 260
XI THE FUNERAL OF OLD HOLT 295
XII SPELLING BOOK BEN 320
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
We makes four trips back and forth between Wolfville and
Red Dog, crackin' off our good old '45's at irreg'lar
intervals, Faro Nell on her calico pony as the Goddess of
Liberty, bustin' away with the rest. . . . Frontispiece 170
We're all discussin' the doin's of this yere road-agent
when Dan gets back from Red-Dog, an' the result is he
unloads his findin's on a dead kyard. 18
Dead Shot stops short at this hitch in the discussion, by
reason of a bullet from the Lightin' Bug's pistol which
lodges in his lung. 28
The second evening Old Stallins is with us, Dan Boggs
an' Texas Thompson uplifts his aged sperits with the
"Love Dance of the Catamounts." 42
"It's you, Oscar, that I want," observes Miss Bark. "I
concloodes, upon sober second thought, to accept your
offer of marriage." 90
A couple of Enright's riders comes a packin' a live bobcat
into town. 118
Turkey Track, seein' he's afoot an' thirty miles from his
home ranch pulls his gun an' sticks up the mockin' bird's
buckboard. 138
We sees the Turner person aboard an' wishes him all
kinds of luck. 222
"What's the subject?" Peets asks. "That, my friend, is the
'Linden in October,'" returns Mike, as though he's a
showin' us a picture of Heaven's front gate. 238
"Him an' Annalinda shore do constitoote a picture. 'Thar's
a pa'r to draw to,' says Nell to Texas, her eyes like brown
diamonds." 280
Thar's a bombardment which sounds like a battery of
gatlings, the whole punctchooated by a whirlwind of
"whoops!" 316
"Onless girls is barred," declares Faro Nell, from her perch
on the chair "I've a notion to take a hand." 336
7Faro Nell and Her FriendsI
DEAD SHOT BAKER
"Which you never knows Dead Shot Baker?"
This, from the old cattleman, with a questioning glance my way.
"No? Well, you shore misses knowin' a man! Still, it ain't none so strange
neither; even Wolfville's acquaintance with Dead Shot's only what you-all
might call casyooal, him not personally lastin' more'n three months.
"This yere Dead Shot has a wife. Thar's women you don't want to see ontil
you're tired, an' women you don't want to see ontil you're rested, an' women
you don't want to see no how––don't want to see at all. This wife of Dead
Shot's belongs with the latter bunch.
8"Last evenin' I'm readin' whar one of them philosophic sports asserts that
women, that a-way, is shore the sublimation of the oncertain. That's how he
lays it down; an' he never hedges the bluff for so much as a single chip. He
insists that you can't put a bet on women; that you can bet on hosses or kyards
or 'lections, but not on women––women bein' too plumb oncertain. As I reads
along, I can't he'p feelin' that somehow this philosophic party must have
knowed Dead Shot's wife.
"The first time we-all ever sees Dead Shot, he comes trackin' into the Red
Light one evenin' jest after the stage rolls up. Bein' it's encroachin' on second
drink time, he sidles up to the bar; an' then, his manner some diffident an'
apol'getic, he says:
"'Gents, do you-all feel like a little licker, that a-way?'
"It bein' imp'lite to reefuse, we assembles within strikin' distance of the bottles
Black Jack is slammin' the len'th of the counter, an' begins spillin' out our forty
drops. At this he turns even more apol'getic.
"'Which I trusts,' he says, 'that no one'll mind much if I takes water?'
9"Of course no one minds. Wolfville don't make no speshulty of forcin' whiskey
onto no gent who's disinclined. If they prefers water, we encourages 'em.
"'An' for this yere reason,' expounds Boggs, once when he ondertakes to
explain the public attitoode towards water to some inquirin' tenderfoot––'an' for
this partic'lar reason: Arizona is a dry an' arid clime; an' water drinkers bein' a
cur'ous rarity, we admires to keep a spec'men or two buck-jumpin' about, so's
to study their habits.'
"As we picks up our glasses, Dead Shot sets to introdoocin' himse'f.
"'My name, gents,' he says, 'is Baker, Abner Baker. The Wells-Fargo folks
sends me down yere from Santa Fe to ride shotgun for 'em.'
"The name's plenty s'fficient. It's him who goes to a showdown with them three
road agents who lays for the stage over in a spur of the Black Range back of
San Marcial, an' hives the three. That battle saves the company $200,000; an',
they're that pleased with Dead Shot's industry, they skins the company's
bankroll for a bundle of money the size of a roll of blankets, an' gives it to him
10by way of reward. It's the talk of the two territories.
"While we-all knows Dead Shot when he speaks his name, none of us lets on.
It's ag'inst ettiquette in the southwest to know more of a gent than what he tells
himse'f."'So water's all you samples?' puts in Texas Thompson, as we stands an'
drinks.
"'It's like this,' explains Dead Shot, appealin' round with his eye. 'You see I
can't drink nosepaint none, an' drink successful.'
"'Shore,' observes Faro Nell, who's takin' her diminyootive toddy right at Dead
Shot's elbow; 'thar's gents so organized that to go givin' 'em licker is like tryin'
to play a harp with a hammer.'
"That's me,' exclaims Dead Shot; 'that's me, Miss, every time. Give me a
spoonful, an' I deemands a bar'l. After which, thar ain't no se'f respectin' camp
that'll stand for my game.'
"'I savvys what you means,' says Tutt; 'I reecalls in my own case how, on the
hocks of mebby it's the ninth drink––which this is years an' years ago,
though––I mistakes a dem'crat primary for a Methodist praise meetin', an'
comes ramblin' in an' offers to lead in pra'r. Which I carries the scars to this
day.'
11"'Which is why, Dave,' interjecks Cherokee Hall, in hopes of settin' Tutt to
pitchin' on his p'litical rope, him bein' by nacher a oncompromisin' reepublican
that a-way––'which is why you always holds dem'crats so low.'
"'But I don't hold 'em low,' protests Tutt. 'Thar's heaps to be said for dem'crats,
leastwise for the sort that's pesterin' 'round in the country I hails from.'
"'What be your dem'crats like, Dave?' Texas urges. 'Which I wants to see if
they're same as the kind I cuts the trail of down about Laredo.'
"'Well,' returns Tutt, 'simply hittin' the high places, them dem'crats by which I'm
born surrounded chews tobacco, sw'ars profoosely, drinks mighty exhaustive,
hates niggers, an' some of 'em can read.'
"'That deescription goes for Laredo, too,' Texas allows. 'This yere jedge, who
gives my wife her divorce that time, an' sets the sheriff to sellin' up my steers
for costs an' al'mony, is a dem'crat. What you says, Dave, is the merest picture
of that joorist.'
12"'I expects my wife'll come rackin' along poco tiempo,' Dead Shot remarks,
after a pause. 'I'm yere as advance gyard to sling things into shape.'
"It's as good as a toone of music to see how softly his face lights up. He's as
big an' wide an' thick an' strong as Boggs, an' yet it's plain as paint that