Wolfville Days [97]
"Enright pauses, an' we-all sets still a moment out of respects to the old chief. At last Dan Boggs, who's always bubblin' that a-way, speaks up:
"'Which I'm shore sorry,' says Dan, 'you don't fetch the moosic of that Purple Blossom's war-song West. I deems that a mighty excellent lay, an' would admire to learn it an' sing it some myse'f. I'd shore go over an' carol it to Red Dog; it would redooce them drunkards to frenzy."'
CHAPTER XVIII.
Where Whiskey Billy Died.
"Lies in the lump that a-way," said the Old Cattleman, apropos of some slight discussion in which we were engaged, "is bad--an' make no doubt about it!--that is, lies which is told malev'lent.
"But thar's a sort of ranikaboo liar on earth, an' I don't mind him nor his fabrications, none whatever. He's one of these yere amiable gents who's merely aimin' to entertain you an' elevate your moods; an' carryin' out sech plans, he sort o' spreads himse'f, an' gets excursive in conversation, castin' loose from facts as vain things onworthy of him. Thar used to be jest sech a mendacious party who camps 'round Wolfville for a while--if I don't misrecollect, he gets plugged standin' up a through stage, final--who is wont to lie that a-way; we calls him 'Lyin' Amos.' But they're only meant to entertain you; them stories be. Amos is never really out to put you on a wrong trail to your ondoin'.
"We-all likes Amos excellent; but, of course, when he takes to the hills as a hold-up, somebody has to down him; an' my mem'ry on that p'int is, they shorely do. What for lies would this yere Amos tell? Well, for instance, Amos once regales me with a vivid picture of how he backs into a corner an' pulls his lonely gun on twenty gents, all 'bad.' This yere is over in Deming. An' he goes on dilatin' to the effect that he stops six of 'em for good with the six loads in his weepon, an' then makes it a stand-off on the remainin' fourteen with the empty gun.
"'It is the slumberin' terrors of my eye, I reckons,' says this Lyin' Amos.
"Which it's reason, an' likewise fact, that sech tales is merest figments on their faces; to say nothin' of the hist'ry of that camp of Deming, which don't speak of no sech blood.
"But, as I says, what of it? Pore Lyin' Amos!--he's cashed in an' settled long ago, like I mentions, goin' for the Wells-Fargo boxes onct too frequent! Which the pitcher goes too often to the well, that a-way, an' Amos finds it out! Still, Amos is only out to entertain me when he onfurls how lucky an' how ferocious he is that time at Deming. Amos is simply whilin' the hours away when he concocts them romances; an' so far from bein' distrustful of him on account tharof, or holdin' of him low because he lets his fancy stampede an' get away with him, once we saveys his little game in all its harmlessness, it makes Amos pop'lar. We encourages Amos in them expansions.
"Speakin' of lyin', an' bein' we're on the subject, it ain't too much to state that thar's plenty o'casions when lyin' is not only proper but good. It's the thing to do.
"Comin' to cases, the world's been forever basin' its game on the lies that's told; an' I reckons now if every gent was to turn in an' tell nothin' but the trooth for the next few hours, thar would be a heap of folks some hard to find at the close of them mootual confidences. Which places now flourishin' like a green bay-tree would be deserted wastes an' solitoodes. Yes, as I says, now I gets plumb cog'tative about it, sech attempts to put down fiction might result in onpreecedented disaster. Thar be times when trooth should shorely have a copper on it; but we lets that pass as spec'lative.
"As my mind is led back along the trail, thar looms before the mirror of mem'ry a hour when the whole Wolfville outfit quits every other game to turn itse'f loose an' lie. Which for once we takes the limit off. Not only do we talk lies, we acts 'em; an' Enright an' Doc Peets an' Texas Thompson, as well as Moore an' Tutt an' Boggs, to say nothin' of myse'f an' Cherokee Hall, an' the rest of the round-up, gets in on the play. Which