"I don't know." "Neither do _I_. (You see how ticklish things is?) Wal, here's Hank in _no_ shape to make any kind of a newspaper fight, but just achin' t' use his gun on anybody that comes nigh him. Why, I never _seen_ such a change in a man in all my born _life!_" I was surprised some _more_. I didn't know Hank _packed_ a gun. He was a darned nice cuss, and ev'rybody shore liked him, and he'd never been laid up fer _re_pairs account of somethin' he'd put in his paper. He was square, smart's a steel-trap, and white clean through. Had a handshake that was hung on a hair-trigger, and a smile so winnin' that he could coax the little prairie-dawgs right outen they holes. Hairoil goes on. "I can see Briggs City eatin' the shucks when it comes 'lection-day," he says, "and that Goldstone man cabbagin' the sheriff's office. Buckshot Milliken tole me this mornin' that the _Tarantula_ called Bergin 'a slouch' last week; 'so low-down he'd eat sheep,' too, and 'such a blamed pore shot he couldn't hit the side of a barn.'" "That's goin' too far." "So _I_ say. I wanted Bergin t' go over to Goldstone and give 'em a sample of his gun-play that'd interfere with the printin' of they one-hoss sheet. But Bergin said it was no use--the _Tarantula_ editor is wearin' a sheet-iron thing-um-a-jig acrosst his back and his front, and has to use a screw-driver t' take off his clothes." "The idear of Hank actin' like a idjit when the 'lection depends on him!" I says. "Wal, things _is_ outen kilter." "Sh-sh-sh!" says Hairoil, lookin' round quick. "Be awful keerful what you say about Hank. We don't want no shootin'-scrape _here._" But I didn't give a continental _who_ heerd me. I was sore t' think a reg'lar jay-hawk 'd been put up agin our man! Say, that Walker didn't know beans when the bag was open. His name shore fit him, 'cause he couldn't ride a hoss fer cold potatoes. And he was the kind that gals think is a looker, and allus stood ace-high at a dance. Lately, he'd been more pop'lar than ever. When we had that little set-to with Spain, Walker hiked out to the Coast; and didn't show up again till after the California boys come home from Manila. Then, he hit town, wearin' a' army hat, and chuck full of all kinds of stories about the Philippines, and how he'd been in _turrible_ fights. That got the girls travelin' after him two-forty. Why, at Goldstone, they was _all_ a-goin' with him, seems like. I didn't want _him_ fer sheriff, you bet you' boots. He wasn't no friend to us Briggs City boys any more 'n we was to him. And then, none of us believed that soldier hand-out. Y' know, we had a little bunch of fellers from this section that went down t' Cuba with Colonel Roos'velt and chased the Spanish some. Wal, y' never heerd _them_ crowin' 'round about what they done. And this Walker, he blowed too much t' be genuwine.