The Grinding of Dave Tutt.
"Yes," said the Old Cattleman, as he took off his sombrero and contemplated the rattlesnake band which environed the crown, "cow-punchers is queer people.They needs a heap of watchin' an' herdin'.
I knowed one by the name of Stevenson down on the Turkey Track, as merits plenty of lookin' after.This yere Stevenson ain't exactly ornery; but bein' restless, an' with a disp'sition to be emphatic whenever he's fillin' himse'f up, keepin' your eye on him is good, safe jedgment.He is public-sperited, too, an' sometimes takes lots of pains to please folks an' be pop'lar.
"I recalls once when we're bringin' up a beef herd from the Panhandle country.We're ag'in the south bank of the Arkansaw, tryin' to throw the herd across.Thar's a bridge, but the natifs allows it's plenty weak, so we're makin' the herd swim.Steve is posted at the mouth of the bridge, to turn back any loose cattle that takes a notion to try an' cross that a-way.Thar's nothin' much to engage Steve's faculties, an' he's a-settin' on his bronco, an'
both is mighty near asleep.Some women people--from the far East, Ireckons--as is camped in town, comes over on the bridge to see us cross the herd.They've lined out clost up to Steve, a-leanin' of their young Eastern chins on the top rail.
"'Which I don't regyard this much,' says one young woman; 'thar's no thrill into it.Whyever don't they do somethin' excitin'?'
"Steve observes with chagrin that this yere lady is displeased; an', as he can't figger nothin' else out quick to entertain her, he gives a whoop, slams his six-shooter off into the scenery, socks his spurs into the pony, an' hops himse'f over the side of the bridge a whole lot into the shallow water below.The jump is some twenty feet an'
busts the pony's laigs like toothpicks; also it breaks Steve's collarbone an' disperses his feachers 'round some free an' frightful on account of his sort o' lightin' on his face.
"Well, we shoots the pony; an' Steve rides in the grub wagon four or five days recooperatin'.It's jest the mercy of hell he don't break his neck.
"'Whatever do you jump off for?' I asks Steve when he's comin'
'round.
"'Which I performs said equestrianisms to amoose that she-shorthorn who is cussin' us out.' says Steve 'I ain't permittin' for her to go back to the States, malignin' of us cow-men.'
"Steve gets himse'f downed a year after, an' strikes out for new ranges in the skies.He's over on the upper Red River when he gets creased.He's settin' into a poker game.
"Steve never oughter gambled none.He is a good cow-boy--splendid round-up hand--an' can do his day's work with rope or iron in a brandin' pen with anybody; but comin' right to cases, he don't know no more about playin' poker than he does about preachin'.Actooally, he'd back two pa'r like thar's no record of their bein' beat.This yere, of course, leads to frequent poverty, but it don't confer no wisdom on Steve.
"On this o'casion, when they ships Steve for the realms of light, one of the boys gets a trey-full; Steve being possessed of a heart flush, nine at the head.In two minutes he don't have even his blankets left.
"After he's broke, Steve h'ists in a drink or two an' sours 'round a whole lot; an' jest as the trey-full boy gets into his saddle, Steve comes roamin' along up an' hails him.
"'Pard,' says Steve, a heap gloomy, 'I've been tryin' to school myse'f to b'ar it, but it don't go.Tharfore, I'm yere to say you steals that pa'r of kings as completed my rooin.Comin' to them decisions, I'm goin' to call on you for that bric-a-brac I lose, an'
I looks to gain some fav'rable replies.'
"'Oh, you do, do you!' says the trey-full boy.'Which you-all is a heap too sanguine.Do you reckon I gives up the frootes of a trey-full--as hard a hand to hold as that is? You can go ten to one Iwon't: not this round-up! Sech requests is preepost'rous!'
"'Don't wax flippant about this yere robbery, says Steve.'It's enough to be plundered without bein' insulted by gayeties.Now, what I says is this: Either I gets my stuff, or I severs our relations with a gun.' An' tharupon Steve pulls his pistol an' takes hold of the trey-full boy's bridle."'If thar's one thing makes me more weary than another,' says the trey-full boy, 'it's a gun play; an'
to avoid sech exhibitions I freely returns your plunder.But you an'
me don't play kyards no more.'
"Whereupon, the trey-full boy gets off his hoss, an' Steve, allowin'
the debate is closed, puts up his gun.Steve is preematoor.The next second, 'bang!' goes the trey-full boy's six-shooter, the bullet gets Steve in the neck, with them heavenly results I yeretofore onfolds, an' at first drink time that evenin' we has a hasty but successful fooneral.
"'I don't reckon,' says Wat Peacock, who is range boss, 'thar's need of havin' any law-suits about this yere killin'.I knows Steve for long an' likes him.But I'm yere to announce that them idees he fosters concerinin' the valyoo of poker hands, onreasonable an'
plumb extrav'gant as they shorely is, absolootely preeclooded Steve's reachin' to old age.An' Steve has warnin's.Once when he tries to get his life insured down in Austin, he's refoosed.
"'"In a five-hand game, table stakes, what is a pair of aces worth before the draw?" is one of them questions that company asks.
"'"Table stakes?" says Steve."Every chip you've got.""'"That settles it, says the company; "we don't want no sech resk.
Thar never is sech recklessness! You won't live a year; you're lucky to be alive right now." An' they declines to insure Steve.'
