Wolfville Days [77]
out on seances an' sim'lar imbecilities, same as them sperit-rappin' hold-ups one encounters in the East. In sech event, Red Dog's doo to deem us locoed, an' could treat us with jestified disdain. Enright don't aim to allow Wolfville's good repoote to bog down to any sech extent, none whatever; an' so stand's in to protect both the camp an' pore Boggs himse'f from Boggs' weird an' ranikaboo idees. So Enright says ag'in: 'Shore! I hears 'em. An' what of it? Can't you-all let a pore pup howl, when his heart is low an' his destinies most likely has got tangled in their rope?'
"'jest the same,' says Boggs, 'them outcries of theirs makes me feel a heap ambiguous. I'm drawin' kyards to a pa'r of fours that first howl they emits, an' I smells bad luck an' thinks to myse'f, "Here's where you get killed too dead to skin!" But as I takes in three aces, an' as the harvest tharof is crowdin' hard towards two hundred dollars, I concloodes, final, them dogs don't have me on their mind after all; an' so I'm appeased a whole lot. Still, I'm cur'ous to know whatever they're howlin' about anyhow.'
"'Which you're too conceited, Boggs,' says Tutt, cuttin' in on the powwow. 'You-all is allers thinkin' everythin' means you. Now, I hears them dogs howlin', an' havin' beheld the spectacle they performs in, I sort o' allows they're sorrowin' over their disgraceful employment--sort o' 'shamed of their game. An' well them dogs might be bowed in sperit! for a more mendacious an' lyin' meelodramy than said "Uncle Tom's Cabin," I never yet pays four white chips to see; an' I'm from Illinoy, an' was a Abe Lincoln man an' a rank black ab'litionist besides.'
"'Seein' I once owns a couple of hundred Guineas,' says Enright, 'my feelin's ag'in slavery never mounts so high as Tutt's; but as for eloocidatin' them dog-songs that's set your nerves to millin', Boggs, it's easy. Whenever you-all hears a dog mournin' an' howlin' like them hound-pups does last night, that's because he smells somethin' he can't locate; an' nacherally he's agitated tharby. Now yereafter, never let your imagination pull its picket-pin that a- way, an' go to cavortin' 'round permiscus--don't go romancin' off on any of them ghost round-ups you're addicted to. Thar's the whole groosome myst'ry laid b'ar; them pups merely smells things they can't locate, an' it frets 'em.'
"'None the less,' remarks Cherokee Hall, 'while I reckons Enright gives us the c'rrect line on dogs that gets audible that a-way, an' onravels them howls in all their meanin's, I confesses I'm a heap like Boggs about signs. Mebby, as I says prior, it's because I'm a kyard sharp an' allers faces my footure over a faro layout. Anyhow, signs an' omens presses on me. For one thing, I'm sooperstitious about makin' of onyoosal arrangements to protect my play. I never yet tries to cinch a play, an' never notes anybody else try, but we- all quits loser. It ain't no use. Every gent, from his cradle to his coffin, has got to take a gambler's chance. Life is like stud-poker; an' Destiny's got an ace buried every time. It either out-lucks you or out-plays you whenever it's so inclined; an' it seems allers so inclined, Destiny does, jest as you're flatterin' yourse'f you've got a shore thing. A gent's bound to play fa'r with Destiny; he can put a bet down on that. You can't hold six kyards; you can't deal double; you can't play no cold hands; you can't bluff Destiny. All you-all can do is humbly an' meekly pick up the five kyards that belongs to you, an' in a sperit of thankfulness an' praise, an' frankly admittin' that you're lucky to be allowed to play at all, do your lowly best tharwith. Ain't I right, Doc?' An' Cherokee, lookin' warm an' earnest, turns to Peets.
"'As absolootely right as the sights of a Sharp's rifle,' says Peets; 'an', while I'm not yere to render you giddy with encomiums, Cherokee, you shore ought to expand them sentiments into a lecture.'
"'Jest to 'llustrate my meanin',' resooms Cherokee, 'let me onbosom myse'f as to what happens a party back in Posey County, Injeanny. I'm plumb callow at
"'jest the same,' says Boggs, 'them outcries of theirs makes me feel a heap ambiguous. I'm drawin' kyards to a pa'r of fours that first howl they emits, an' I smells bad luck an' thinks to myse'f, "Here's where you get killed too dead to skin!" But as I takes in three aces, an' as the harvest tharof is crowdin' hard towards two hundred dollars, I concloodes, final, them dogs don't have me on their mind after all; an' so I'm appeased a whole lot. Still, I'm cur'ous to know whatever they're howlin' about anyhow.'
"'Which you're too conceited, Boggs,' says Tutt, cuttin' in on the powwow. 'You-all is allers thinkin' everythin' means you. Now, I hears them dogs howlin', an' havin' beheld the spectacle they performs in, I sort o' allows they're sorrowin' over their disgraceful employment--sort o' 'shamed of their game. An' well them dogs might be bowed in sperit! for a more mendacious an' lyin' meelodramy than said "Uncle Tom's Cabin," I never yet pays four white chips to see; an' I'm from Illinoy, an' was a Abe Lincoln man an' a rank black ab'litionist besides.'
"'Seein' I once owns a couple of hundred Guineas,' says Enright, 'my feelin's ag'in slavery never mounts so high as Tutt's; but as for eloocidatin' them dog-songs that's set your nerves to millin', Boggs, it's easy. Whenever you-all hears a dog mournin' an' howlin' like them hound-pups does last night, that's because he smells somethin' he can't locate; an' nacherally he's agitated tharby. Now yereafter, never let your imagination pull its picket-pin that a- way, an' go to cavortin' 'round permiscus--don't go romancin' off on any of them ghost round-ups you're addicted to. Thar's the whole groosome myst'ry laid b'ar; them pups merely smells things they can't locate, an' it frets 'em.'
"'None the less,' remarks Cherokee Hall, 'while I reckons Enright gives us the c'rrect line on dogs that gets audible that a-way, an' onravels them howls in all their meanin's, I confesses I'm a heap like Boggs about signs. Mebby, as I says prior, it's because I'm a kyard sharp an' allers faces my footure over a faro layout. Anyhow, signs an' omens presses on me. For one thing, I'm sooperstitious about makin' of onyoosal arrangements to protect my play. I never yet tries to cinch a play, an' never notes anybody else try, but we- all quits loser. It ain't no use. Every gent, from his cradle to his coffin, has got to take a gambler's chance. Life is like stud-poker; an' Destiny's got an ace buried every time. It either out-lucks you or out-plays you whenever it's so inclined; an' it seems allers so inclined, Destiny does, jest as you're flatterin' yourse'f you've got a shore thing. A gent's bound to play fa'r with Destiny; he can put a bet down on that. You can't hold six kyards; you can't deal double; you can't play no cold hands; you can't bluff Destiny. All you-all can do is humbly an' meekly pick up the five kyards that belongs to you, an' in a sperit of thankfulness an' praise, an' frankly admittin' that you're lucky to be allowed to play at all, do your lowly best tharwith. Ain't I right, Doc?' An' Cherokee, lookin' warm an' earnest, turns to Peets.
"'As absolootely right as the sights of a Sharp's rifle,' says Peets; 'an', while I'm not yere to render you giddy with encomiums, Cherokee, you shore ought to expand them sentiments into a lecture.'
"'Jest to 'llustrate my meanin',' resooms Cherokee, 'let me onbosom myse'f as to what happens a party back in Posey County, Injeanny. I'm plumb callow at