' This yere is brief, an'
likewise sheds some light.
"This Jack Moore--which I'm proud to say he's my friend--I reckons
is the most pro bono publico gent in the Southwest. He's out to do
anythin' from fight to fiddle at a dance, so's it's a public play.
"An' then his idees about his dooties is wide. He jest scouts far
an' near, an' don't pay no more heed to distance an' fatigue than a
steer does to cobwebs.
"'A offishul," says Jack, 'who don't diffuse himse'f 'round none,
an' confines his endeavors to his own bailiwick, is reestricted an'
oneffectooal, an' couldn't keep down crime in a village of prairie-
dogs.' An' then he'd cinch on his saddle, an' mebby go curvin' off
as far north as the Flint Hills, or east to the Turkey-track.
"That's right; when it comes to bein' active, Jack is what you might
call an all-round seelection. An' clean strain? Game as hornets.
Never knowed him to quit anythin' in his life--not even whiskey. I
says to him myse'f one time: 'Jack; whyever don't you renig on
whiskey? Looks like it's sorter gettin' behind you some, ain't it?
Some day mebby it outholds you when you can't stand to lose.'
"'Sometimes I thinks I'll pass it up, myse'f,' says Jack, 'but don't
you know, I can't do it.
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