Well, they turns in an' brings the other
inhabitants outen their fits; pendin' which Moore kills off the last
remainin' bull-snake in Crawfish's herd.
"Son, I've seen people mad, an' I've seen 'em gay, an' I've seen 'em
bit by grief. But I'm yere to remark I never runs up on a gent who
goes plumb mad with sadness ontil I sees Crawfish that day Jack
Moore immolates his bull-snake pets. He stands thar, white, an'
ain't sayin' a word. Looks for a minute like he can't move. Crawfish
don't pack no gun, or I allers allowed we'd had notice of him some,
while them bullsnakes is cashin' in.
"But at last he sorter comes to, an' walks out without sayin'
nothin'. They ain't none of us regardin' of him much at the time;
bein' busy drinkin' an' recoverin' from the shock.
"Now, what do you s'pose this old Navajo does? Lopes straight over
to the New York Store--is ca'm as a June day about it, too--an' gets
a six-shooter.
"The next information we gets of Crawfish, 'bang!' goes his new gun,
an' the bullet cuts along over Jack Moore's head too high for
results. New gun that a-way, an' Crawfish not up on his practice; of
course he overshoots.
"Well, the pore old murderer never does get a second crack.
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