"When these yere faithful mules takes to surgin' about the scene on two feet, Moon's nephy grabs a Winchester an' pumps a load or so into the darkness for gen'ral results.An' he has a heap of luck.He shorely stops one of them Apaches in his lopin' up, an' down the land for good an' all.
"In less than no time the whole tribe is down on Captain Moon an'
his nephy, demandin' blood.Thar's plenty of some sorts of wisdom about a savage, an' these yere Apaches ain't runnin' right in on Moon an' his relatif neither.They was perfeekly familiar with the accoomulation of cartridges in a Winchester, an' tharfore goes about the stirrin' up of Moon an' that nepby plumb wary.
"Moon an' the boy goes in between the wagons, blazin' an' bangin'
away at whatever moves or makes a noise; an' as they've been all through sech festivals before, they regyards their final chances to be as good as an even break, or better.
"While them Apaches is dodgin' about among the rocks, an' howlin'
contempt, an' passin' resolootions of revenge touchin' the two Moons, the Injun agent comes troopin' along.He seeks to round-up his savages an' herd 'em back to the agency.The Apaches, on their side, is demandin' the capture of the nephy Moon for sp'ilin' one of their young men.
"The agent is a prairie dog jest out from the East, an' don't know half as much about what's goin' on inside of a Apache as a horned toad.He comes down to the aige of hostil'ties, as you-all might call it, an' makes Moon an' his Winchester workin' nephy a speech.
He addresses 'em a whole lot on the enormity of downin' Apaches who goes prowlin' about an' scarin' up your mules at midnight, in what this yere witless agent calls a 'motif of childish cur'osity,' an'
he winds up the powwow with demandin' the surrender of the 'hom'cide.'
"'Surrender nothin'!' says Captain Moon.'You tell your Injuns to line out for their camp; an' don't you yourse'f get too zealous neither an' come too clost, or as shore as I casts my first vote for Matty Van Buren, I'll plug you plumb center.'
"But the nephy, he thinks different.In spite of Captain Moon's protests, he gives himse'f up to the agent on the promise of protection.
"'You're gone, lad,' says Moon, when the nephy insists on yieldin';'you won't last as long as a pint of whiskey in a five-hand poker game.'
"But this yere young Moon is obdurate an' goes over an' gives himse'f to the agent, who puts it up he'll send him to Prescott to be tried in co't for beefin' the mule-thief Apache that a-way.
"Shore! it turns out jest as Captain Moon says.Before they'd gone a half mile, them wards of the gov'ment, as I once hears a big chief from Washin'ton call 'em, takes the nephy from this yere fallacious agent an' by fourth drink time that mornin', or when it's been sun-up three hours, that nephy is nothin' but a mem'ry.
"How do they kill him? In a fashion which, from the coigne your Apache views things, does 'em proud.That nephy is immolated as follows: They ropes him out, wrist an' ankle, with four lariats;pegs him out like he's a hide they're goin' to dry.Thar's a big ant hill close at hand; it's with reference to this yere ant colony that the nephy is staked out.In three hours from the tune them ants gets the word from the Apaches, they've done eat the nephy up, an' the last vestitch of him plumb disappears with the last ant, as the latter resoomes his labors onder the earth.
"Why, shore! these yere ants'll eat folks.They re-yards sech reepasts as festivals, an' seasons of reelaxation from the sterner dooties of a ant.I recalls once how we loses Locoed Charlie, which demented party I b'lieve I mentions to you prior.This yere Charlie takes a day off from where he's workin'--at least he calls it labor--at the stage corrals, an' goes curvin' over to Red Dog.Charlie tanks up on the whiskey of that hamlet, compared to which the worst nose-paint ever sold in Wolfville is nectar.They palms off mebby it's a quart of this jooce on Charlie, an' then he p'ints out for Wolfville.
"That's the last of the pore drunkard.His pony is nickcrin' about the corral gates, pleadin' with the mules inside to open 'em, in the mornin', but no sign or smoke of Locoed Charlie.An' he never does show up no more.
"If it's Enright or Cherokee Hall, or any valyooed citizen, thar would have issooed forth a war party, an' Red Dog would have been sacked an' burned but what the missin' gent would have been turned out.But it's different about Locoed Charlie.He hadn't that hold on the pop'lar heart; didn't fill sech a place in the gen'ral eye; an'
so, barrin' a word or two of wonder, over their drink at the Red Light, I don't reckon now the Wolfville folks disturbs themse'fs partic'lar about the camp bein' shy Charlie.
"It's the second day when a teamster, trackin' over from Red Dog, developes what's left of Locoed Charlie.He falls off his hoss, with that load of Red Dog whiskey, an' every notion or idee or sensation absolootely effaced.An' where Charlie loses is, he falls by a ant hill.Yes; they shorely takes Charlie in.Thar's nothin' left of him when the teamster locates the remainder, but his clothes, his spurs an' his 'natomy.The r'ar gyard of them ants has long since retired with the final fragments of Locoed Charlie."You-all might o' seen the story.Colonel Sterett writes it up in the Coyote, an' heads it, 'Hunger is a Terrible Thing.' This sot Charlie comin' to his death that a-way puts a awful scare over Huggins an' Old Monte.It reforms 'em for more'n two hours.Huggins, who is allers frontin' up as one who possesses public sperit, tries to look plumb dignified about it, an' remarks to Dave Tutt in the New York Store as how he thinks we oughter throw in around an' build a monument to Locoed Charlie.Dave allows that, while he's with Huggins in them projecks, he wants to add a monument to the ants.The founders of the scheme sort o'
splittin' at the go-in that a-way, it don't get no further, an' the monument to Locoed Charlie, as a enterprise, bogs down.But to continyoo on the trail of Captain Moon.
