W. C. Tuttle

“ The judge was left-handed, which might account for the poor throwing, but he got his feet tangled in some of that loose curtain and hit Scenery Sims right in the head with that heavy moon.
Bang! Somebody took a shot at the steer and knocked several bells, and one of them danged bells hit me in the nose. I hate to get hit in the nose with a bell. I hates to get hit in the nose with anything, but I sure does detest a bell. I can see folks going out of the door as fast as they can travel. I seen Hair Oil climbing onto poor Maud S, and then my time is all taken up with that danged steer. ”

“ The next morning we took Maud S up the steps into the hall, and I’m here to say that Maud S made life miserable for us. A mule is hard to argue with on the level, but try getting one half-way up a stairs and have it stop to think. ”

“ We finds the acting talent behind the curtain. Scenery is all dressed up in a gunny-sack gown, with a ribbon tied around his head and no boots on. He’s making gestures like a prize-fighter.
“My ——!” gasps Dirty. “Would yuh look at that?” Scenery jerks one fist outward and upward, swings the other arm behind him, like he was guarding his rear, and then squeaks:
“Lo, there shineth a bright light. Let’s go to it.”
“Mark an X after Scenery Sims,” says Dirty. “He won’t last.”
We goes over where Wick is looking at Maud S. She’s still laying down and don’t act like she’s ever get up again. ”

“ It is a time when grown men become like little children. Yeah, that's a fact—mentally. Piperock ain't got any too much sense when she's acting growed up; but right now huh!"
THERE ain't no reason why a lot of disreputable snake-hunters can't spend their Christmas in Paradise or Curlew; but they don't. Nope. They clutters up Piperock to partake of our good cheer. Me and Dirty looks over that aggregation of incompetents, and the sight drives all wisdom, peace and good will from our hearts. ”

“ The few remaining folks in the hall sort of celebrates by taking some shots at the lights, the same of which makes our immediate future kinda gloomy.
"Lo, I see a bright light!" squeals Scenery's voice.
"Sus-sunfish, you crop-eared coyote!" yells Hair Oil, and then comes a crash of glass.
"My ——!" yells Magpie. "She throwed Hair Oil out of the window! Where are you, Ike?"
"Keep away!" I yells. "I'm paralyzed all the way down from my upper lip and I don't know whether me or the steer is on top."
"Paralyzed —— ——!" howls Dirty. "Wish I was. Who in —— got the idea of puttin' cactus on the stage?" ”

“ Wick believed her, I reckon, cause he throwed his drum stick right at poor Magpie. It was a good shot. It came right through the hole in the curtain and it hit Judge Steele on the bridge of his nose. The old boy sort of got dignified acting.
“Wonderful,” says Dirty. “Wonderful cons’tution.”
The judge just walks around the stage, making gestures and working his lips, but there ain’t no words. Pretty soon he stops, seems to listen, and then he says, soft-like: “Guilty? Why, gentlemen, that man is as innocent as a new-born baby.” ”

“ I whirls just in time to see Magpie get kicked behind the knees by Maud S, who is laying down. She must ’a’ just sort of cramped herself and then let fly with both hoofs.
Magpie turns plumb over and goes out through the curtain and right into Mrs. Smith, who is straining over “be-e-e-right;” and when they hit the platform she’s on top.
“From Spring to Fall!” yelps Mex Mason.
Mrs. Smith gets off poor Magpie, and lets out a wail:
“O-o-o-o-o-o-oh! Every time I try to do something, some hammer-head comes bustin’ along and spoils it!”
“Did you hit her on purpose?” demands Wick, standing up. ”

“ We’ve got to have a lot of presents and——”
“Who’s going to be Sandy Claws?” asks Dirty.
“Nobody!” snaps Magpie. “Them things are out of date. We’re just steppin’ along ahead of them ancient has-beens, yuh betcha. Nobody can go home from this celebration and say we had the same old stuff.”
“Be —— lucky if they has the use of their vocal cords ten days afterwards,” opines Dirty. “Piperock’s Merry Christmas has always knocked —— out of Happy New Year’s. I suppose you’ll frame up a death trap and charge us a dollar apiece to get butchered for a Piperock Holiday.” ”

“ Why, gentlemen, that man is as innocent as a new-born baby."
"Knocked back seven years," says Dirty, awed-like. "That's what he said the time he was my lawyer, and that was seven years ago."
The crowd out in front are talking loud, and I know danged well that there's going to be trouble if we don't keep going. Mrs. Smith comes waddling in, follered by Matilda and Magpie.
Mrs. Smith is sore as a boil.
"I will not sing another note," she declares. "Every time I start to do anything in public——"
"Maud S is getting restless," states Scenery. "We better pull off our act." ”

“ We’re goin’ to put some rocks and a bunch of cactus on the stage.”
“What do we do?” squeaks Scenery.
“You will be asleep,” explains Testament. “The lamp will be turned low and have a cover over it. Everything will be still. I’ll have somebody behind the curtain to take off the cover of the moon, and slowly turn up the lamp. One of you wise men wakes up and sees the dim light. You wakes up the rest of the bunch, and you all stands up, looking at the light.
“Then you—Magpie. I reckon we better have the mule layin’ down, hadn’t we? ”

“ Me and Ike and Scenery."
"Wisdom—!" grunts Telescope. "You three?"
"And Maud S," adds Dirty, sad-like.
"Oh," says Chuck. "Oh, yeah. Well, mebbe you'll get away with it."
According to all we can find out, Christmas is the time of peace on earth and plenty of good-will to everybody. She's a time when the lion and the lamb lies down together, and the cowpuncher forgets that there is such a thing as a sheep-herder. It's a time when men's hearts are filled with love toward their fellermen, and a six-shooter is only a ornament ”

“ We’ll have a curtain built along two sides and the back, and we’ve got to have them stairs braced up a little before we can bring Maud S up into the hall.”
“Is Maud S comin’ to the show?” asks Dirty.
“She’s the ca-mel,” explains Magpie. “Goin’ to fix up some humps on her back and yuh never could tell her from a ca-mel. Sabe?”
“Suppose she brays?” says Scenery.
“Suppose she gestures?” says Dirty. “My ——, but a mule can gesture.”
“Maud S ain’t got a kick left in her old carcass,” grins Magpie.
Just then Muley Bowles and Chuck Warner shows up, and joins us. ”

“ Scenery is tickled stiff to think he's goin' to be a actor, but I ain't cheering—yet. Me and Dirty Shirt are veterans in this acting game, and we knows it takes nerve, speed and a strong constitution.
The old Romans and their wild animal arena never had nothing of Piperock. She's a place where milk comes in tin cans, and the only honey is what the sand-hornets puts up for their own use. Her motto is:
"Hurrah for ——! Who's afraid of a little fire?"
In Buck's place we finds Muley and Chuck, and pretty soon Telescope Tolliver and Henry Peck comes in, which makes the Cross J quartet complete. ”

“ I finds Dirty Shirt in Buck’s place, and he’s inoculated against rattlesnakes. Dirty is bow-legged and cock-eyed, and wouldn’t be no beauty if he wasn’t. I tells him what has come to pass, and he listens close-like. Then he steps inside, yanks out his six-gun, and rings the little bell on top of the Mint Hall three times in a row. Then he puts his gun back and cocks his eye at me.
“I ain’t drunk, that’s a cinch. Mebbe my hearin’ is weak, Ike. Say that all over again, will yuh?”
I explains once more. Dirty nods foolish-like.
“Sounded the same both times, Ike. What does a wise man have to do?” ”

“ THEN I calls Dirty outside, and I says to him, like this:
"Dirty, me and you have got to stay sober. A drunk ain't goin' to have no chance a-tall in there if anything goes wrong. If we hangs around with them celebratin' shorthorns we won't be in no shape to get up and foller that star. We'll be just like Maud S, which can't or won't get up."
"That's right, Ike. We'll get a couple of quarts for ourselves and keep away from them hard drinkers. Don't yuh reckon Maud S will get up at the right time?" ”

“ The next morning Magpie gets a heap enthused over their meeting.
“We sure planned out some hy-iu festival. Goin’ to be great, Ike. Sacred, solemn and satisfactory from all points of the compass.”
“Undertakingly speaking?”
“Not this time. There ain’t going to be no guns allowed. Every puncher will have to leave his gun at the door. See the idea? Bill Thatcher says he won’t bring no orchestra, but we’ll have one just as good. Ricky Henderson has mastered the flute, and Wick Smith’s new drum is due here today.” ”

“ You ain’t settin’ no precedent, Dirty. I reckon every man in the hall is packin’ a strange gun, but there’s one satisfaction—they can’t shoot more than six time per each, ’cause I’ve got all their extra ammunition. ”

“ Chuck got the idea of dressin’ up that steer in Tellurium’s clothes. Tellurium was sore, too. We twisted a wire around the steer’s tail to make it bawl when the gag was pulled off.
“We just wanted to make it blat at Magpie. Nossir, yuh can’t blame us for it, ’cause that mule would ’a’ killed him anyway. I’d like to know what in —— woke up that gone-to-seed mule.”
“There ain’t nobody to hear,” says Dirty, “so I’ll tell yuh. I took a can of red pepper and a can of ginger and mixed ’em. Then I made a gob of dough in Dee’s shack and put the hot stuff in the middle. ”

“ We've almost got to the point where we can sing 'Tentin' Tonight,' with variations, and our 'Sweet Marie' sure does make the shivers run up your spine. 'Jay Bird' Whittaker says it's got anything beat he ever heard since he busted the ear tubes of his talkin' machine. ”

“ Dirty sets down beside Maud S and takes her head in his lap.
"Ain't the Cross J quartet going to sing?" asks Matilda.
Old Testament shakes his head.
"Nope. They got mad—them and Tellurium. They all went home."
"Tweet, tweet, tweet," goes the flute.
"Bum! Bum! Bum!" goes the drum.
"Whar-r-r-oo-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m," goes the jews-harp.
"The orchestra is tunin' up," observes Dirty. "We ain't got long to live, Ike."
THEN Old Judge Steele steps out through the curtain, and the hum of conversation dies down.
"Feller citizens and ladies," says the judge, "the first thing on the program is a du-it. ”