THE RIVAL DANCE-HALLS.
It was sweet and cool after the rain, and the Old Cattleman and I, moved by an admiration for the open air which was mutual, found ourselves together on the porch.
As in part recompense for his reminiscences of the several days before, I regaled my old friend with the history of a bank-failure, the details as well as the causes of which were just then forcing themselves upon me in the guise of business.
"The fact is," I said, as I came to the end of my story, "the fact is, the true cause of this bank's downfall was a rivalry--what one might call a business feud--which grew into being between it and a similar institution which had opened as its neighbor.In the competition which fell out they fairly cut each other's throat.They both failed.""An' I takes it," remarked the Old Cattleman in comment, "one of these yere trade dooels that a-way goes on vindictive an'
remorseless, same as if it's a personal fight between cow-folks over cattle.""Quite right," I said."Money is often more cruel than men; and a business vendetta is frequently mere murder without the incident of blood.I don't suppose the life of your Arizona town would show these trade wars.It would take Eastern--that is, older--conditions, to provoke and carry one on.""No," replied the old gentleman, with an air of retrospection, "Idon't recall nothin' of the sort in Wolfville.We're too much in a huddle, anyway; thar ain't room for no sech fracas, no how.Now the nearest we-alls comes to anythin' of the kind is when the new dance-hall starts that time.
"Which I reckons," continued the Old Cattle.man, as he began arranging a smoke, "which I now reckons this yere is the only catyclism in trade Wolfville suffers; the only time it comes to what you-all Eastern sports would call a showdown in commerce.Of course thar's the laundry war, but that's between females an' don't count.
Females--while it's no sorter doubt they's the noblest an' most exhilaratin' work of their Redeemer--is nervous that a-way, an' due any time to let their ha'r down their backs, emit a screech, an'
claw an' lay for each other for luck.An', as I says, if you confines the festivities to them females engaged, an' prevents the men standin' in on the play, it's shore to wind up in sobs an'
forgiveness, an' tharfore it don't go.
"As I says, what I now relates is the only industrial trouble Irecalls in Wolfville.I allers remembers it, 'cause, bein' as how Iknows the party who's the aggravatin' cause tharof, it mortifies me the way he jumps into camp an' carries on.
"When I sees him first is ages before, when I freights with eight mules over the Old Fort Bascome trail from Vegas to the Panhandle.
This sharp--which he's a tenderfoot at the time, but plumb wolf by nacher-trails up to me in the Early Rose Saloon in Vegas one day, an' allows he'd like to make a deal an' go projectin' over into the Panhandle country with me for a trip."Freightin' that a-way three weeks alone on the trail is some harrowin' to the sperits of a gent who loves company like me, so I agrees, an' no delay to it.
"Which I'm yere to mention I regrets later I'm that easy I takes this person along.Not that he turns hostile, but he's allers havin'
adventures, an' things keeps happenin' to him; an' final, I thinks he's shorely dead an' gone complete--the same, as I afterward learns, bein' error; an', takin' it up one trail an' down another, that trip breaks me offen foolin' with shorthorns complete, an' Idon't go near 'em for years, more'n if they's stingin' lizards.
"Whatever does this yere maverick do to me? Well, nothin' much to me personal; but he keeps a-breedin' of events which pesters me.
"We're out about four days when them mishaps begins.I camps over one sun on the Concha to rest my mules.I'm loaded some heavy with six thousand pounds in the lead, an' mebby four thousand pounds in the trail wagon; an' I stops a day to give my stock a chance to roll an' breathe an' brace up.My off-wheel mule--a reg'lar shave-tail--is bad med'cine.Which he's not only eager to kick towerists an'
others he takes a notion ag'inst; but he's likewise what you-alls calls a kleptomaniac, an' is out to steal an' sim'lar low-down plays.
"I warns this yere tenderfoot--his name's Smith, but I pulls on him when conversin' as 'Colonel'--I warns this shorthorn not to fuss 'round my Jerry mule, bein', as I states, a mule whose mood is ornery.
"'Don't go near him, Colonel,' says I; 'an' partic'lar don't go crowdin' 'round to get no r'ar views of him.You-all has no idee of the radius of that mule; what you might call his sweep.You never will till he's kicked you once or twice, an' the information ain't worth no sech price.So I don't reckon I'd fool with him, none whatever.
"'An' speshul, Colonel,' I goes on, for I shore aims to do my dooty by him, 'don't lay nothin' 'round loose where this yere Jerry mule can grab it off.I'm the last freighter on the Plains to go slanderin' an' detractin' of a pore he'pless mule onless it's straight; but if you-all takes to leavin' keepsakes an' mementoes layin' about casooal an' careless that a-way, Jerry'll eat 'em; an'
the first you saveys your keepsakes is within Jerry's interior, an'
thar you be.
"'The fact is, stranger, this Jerry mule's a thief,' I says.'If he's a human, Jerry would be lynched.But otherwise he's a sincere, earnest mule; an up hill or at a quicksand crossin' Jerry goes into his collar like a lion; so I forgives him bein' a thief an' allows it's a peccadillo.""'Well, you bet!' says this tenderfoot Colonel, 'this yere Jerry better not come no peccadillos on me.'
"'If you-all maintains about twenty feet,' I replies, 'between Jerry's hind-Hocks an' you; an' if you keeps your bric-a-brac in your war-bags, you an' Jerry'll get along like lambs.Now, I warns you, an' that's got to do.If Jerry an' you gets tangled up yereafter you-all ain't goin' to harbor no revenges ag'in him, nor make no ranikaboo plays to get even.'
