Peter onbars things a lot an'
arranges gate an' seat checks with the other in the realms of light.
That's all thar is to it. The tide of life ag'in flows onward to the
eternal sea, an' nary ripple.
"Oh, this yere Wolfville dooel! `Well, it's this a-way. The day is
blazin' hot, an' business layin' prone an' dead--jest blistered to
death. A passel of us is sorter pervadin' 'round the dance-hall, it
bein' the biggest an' coolest store in camp. A monte game is
strugglin' for breath in a feeble, fitful way in the corner, an'
some of us is a-watchin'; an' some a-settin' 'round loose a-
thinkin'; but all keepin' mum an' still, 'cause it's so hot.
"Jest then some gent on a hoss goes whoopin' up the street a-yellin'
an' a-whirlin' the loop of his rope, an' allowin' generally he's
havin' a mighty good time.
"'Who's this yere toomultuous man on the hoss?' says Enright, a-
regardin' of him in a displeased way from the door.
"'I meets him up the street a minute back,' says Dan Boggs, 'an' he
allows he's called "The Man from Red Dog." He says he's took a day
off to visit us, an' aims to lay waste the camp some before he goes
back.'
"About then the Red Dog man notes old Santa Rosa, who keeps the
Mexican baile hall, an' his old woman, Marie, a-fussin' with each
other in front of the New York Store.
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