BOGGS'S EXPERIENCE.
"No; thar's nothin' prolix about Boggs.Which on the contrary, his nacher is shorely arduous that a-way.If it's a meetin' of the committee, for instance, with intent then an' thar to dwell a whole lot on the doin's of some malefactor, Boggs allers gets to a mental show-down ahead of the other gents involved.Either he's out to throw this party loose, or stretch his neck, or run him outen camp, or whatever's deemed exact jestice, long before sech slow-an'-shore people as Old Man Enright even looks at their hands.The trooth is, Boggs ain't so strong on jedgement; his long suit is instinct.An'
moreover I knows from his drawin' four kyards so much in poker, Boggs is plumb emotional."At this point in his discourse the Old Cattle man paused and put in several profound minutes in apparent contemplation of Boggs.Then he went on.
"That's it; Boggs is emotional; an' I shorely reckons which he'd even been a heap religious, only thar's no churches much on Boggs's range.Boggs tells me himse'f he comes mighty near bein' caught in some speritual round-up one time, an' I allers allows, after hearin'
Boggs relate the tale, that if he'd only been submerged in what you-alls calls benigner inflooences that a-way, he'd most likely made the fold all right an' got garnered in with the sheep.
"It's just after Short Creek Dave gets to be one of them 'vangelists.Dave has been exhortin' of Wolfville to leave off its ways, over in the warehouse of the New York Store, an' that same evenin' Boggs, bein' some moved, confides in me how once he mebby half-way makes up his mind he'll be saved.
"'Leastwise,' says Boggs, when he takes me into his past that a-way, 'I allows I'll be religious in the spring after the round-up is over.But I don't; so you can't, after all, call it a religious exper'ence none; nothin' more'n a eepisode.
"'It's winter when I makes them grace-of-heaven determinations,'
goes on this Boggs, 'an' the spring round-up is months away.But Iallers puts it up I'd shorely filled my hand an' got plumb into the play, only it's a bad winter; an' in the spring the cattle, weak an'
starved, is gettin' down an' chillin' to death about the water-holes; an' as results tharof I'm ridin' the hills, a-cussin' an' a-swearin'; an' all 'round it's that rough, an' I'm that profane an'
voylent, I reckons towards April probably my soul's buried onder ten foot of cuss-words, an' that j'inin' the church in my case is mighty likely to be a bluff.An' so I passes it up.
"'You sees,' says Boggs, 'thar's no good tryin' to hold out kyards on your Redeemer.If your heart ain't right it's no use to set into the game.No cold deck goes.He sees plumb through every kyard you holds, an' nothin' but a straight deal does with Him.Nacherally, then, I thinks--bein' as how you can't bluff your way into heaven, an' recallin' the bad language I uses workin' them cattle--I won't even try.An' that's why, when resolvin' one winter to get religion mebby next June, I persists in my sinful life.
"'It's over to Taos I acquires this religious idee.I'm come new to the camp from some'ers down 'round Seven Rivers in the Pecos country, an' I don't know a gent.Which I'm by nacher gregar'ous; so not knowin' folks that a-way weighs on me; an' the first night I'm thar, I hastens to remedy this yere evil.I'm the possessor of wealth to a limit,--for I shore despises bein' broke complete, an'
generally keeps as good as a blue stack in my war-bags,--an' I goes projectin' 'round from dance-hall to baile, an' deciminates my dinero an' draws to me nose-paint an' friends.As thar ain't but three gin-mills, incloosive of the hurdy-gurdy, I'm goin' curvin' in them grand rounds which I institoots, on a sort of triangle.
"'Which it can't be said I don't make runnin' of it, however; Idon't reckon now it's mor'n an hour before I knows all Taos, bar Mexicans an' what some folks calls "the better elements." It also follows, like its lariat does a loose pony, that I'm some organized by whiskey, not to say confused.
"'It's because I'm confused I'm misled into this yere pra'r-meetin.'
Not that them exercises is due to dim my eternal game none, now nor yereafter; but as I ain't liable to adorn the play nor take proper part tharin, I'd shorely passed out an' kept on to the hurdy-gurdy if I'd knowed.As it stands, I blunders into them orisons inadvertent; but, havin' picked up the hand, I nacherally continues an' plays it.
"'It's this a-way about them religious exercises: I'm emerged from the Tub of Blood, an' am p'intin' out for the dance-hall, when Istrikes a wickeyup all lighted, an' singin' on the inside.I takes it for a joint I ain't seen none as yet, an' tharupon heads up an'
enters.From the noise, I allows mebby it's Mexican; which Greasers usual puts up a heap of singin' an' scufflin' an' talkin' in everythin' from monte to a bull-fight.
"'Once I'm in, I notes it ain't Mexicans an' it ain't monte.Good folks though, I sees that; an' as a passel of 'em near the door looks shocked at the sight of me, I'm too bashful to break out ag'in, but sorter aiges into the nearest seat an' stands pat.
"'I can tell the outfit figgers on me raisin' the long yell an'
stampedin' round to make trouble; so I thinks to myse'f I'll fool 'em up a lot.I jest won't say a word.So I sets silent as a coyote at noon; an' after awhile the sharp who's dealin' for 'em goes on with them petitions I interrupts as I comes bulgin' in.
"'Their range-boss says one thing I remembers.It's about castin'
your bread upon the waters.He allows you'll get it ag'in an' a band of mavericks with it.It's playin' white chips to win blues; that's what this sharp says.
"'It shorely strikes me as easy.Every time you does good, says this party, Fate is out to play a return game with you; an' it's written you quits winner on all the good you promulgates that a-way.
"'I sets the deal out an' gets some sleepy at it, too.But I won't leave an' scand'lize the congregation; an' as I gives up strong when the plate goes by, I ain't regarded as no setback.
