“He, he, he! Was afraid maybe you hadn’t heard about it,” he squeaks. “Fill our ears, Scenery,” says Magpie, rolling a smoke. “Biggest thing you ever heard about, Magpie. Believe me, I’m the party responsible for it all. Piperock needs you fellers.” “That’s plenty for me,” says I. “I’m going back the other way. I’ve been butchered to make a Piperock holiday, and any old time that Piperock needs me, I’m absent.” “Hear about it anyway, Ike,” urges Magpie. “Go ahead, Scenery.” “Old Home Week,” grins Scenery. “What do you think?” “Go ahead—we’ll bite,” says I. “Whatever it is it won’t last no week” says Magpie, prophetic-like. “The big celebration is all in one day. All the old-timers will be there; _sabe_? This is going to be a _hyiu_ time, if you asks me, and she’s going to be full of brotherly love and peace on earth, good will to all menkind.” “In Piperock?” I asks, and he nods. “Brotherly love?” asks Magpie, and he nods again. “Well,” says I, “if you was a big man, Scenery, or could pull a gun real fast, I’d say you’re mistaken, but being whom you are I’ll say you are either a danged fool or a liar.” “Quit that now!” he squeaks. “Quit it! Dog-gone you, Ike, I’ve got a lot of power I didn’t used to have.” “All the old-timers?” inquires Magpie. “You heard me say it, didn’t you?” “Hoss-thieves, et cettery?” “Immune for a week, Magpie. I has issued my proclamation.” Magpie looks at me sort of sad-like. “What do you think, Ike?” “When does the battle begin?” “The celebration will be on Tuesday.” “This is Sunday,” says I, “which gives one whole day to dig ourselves in and two whole nights to spend in prayer. Go ahead, Magpie, and may the Lord have mercy on the children ’cause there won’t be no old folks next year.” Piperock ain’t changed none to speak about. As we pilgrims into the main street we sees “Tellurium” Woods gallop out of Buck’s place, and just as he skids into Pete Gonyer’s blacksmith shop we hears the bang of a gun. Then out of the saloon comes “Tombstone” Todd. He peers all around. “Whyfor the salute, Tombstone?” asks Magpie. “Salute ——! Think I’m shooting blanks? Tellurium argued that I ain’t eligible to stay here for Old Home Week. Said the only time I ever was here a delegation comes from Paradise, decorates me plentiful with tar and feathers and rides me off on a rail. Dang Tellurium’s hide!” “Don’t you remember the incident, Tombstone?” asks Magpie. “Don’t I? Sufferin’ snakes, I didn’t moult for two months! Scenery said I could stay here as long as I dwelt in harmony and brotherly love, and, by cripes, I’m going to foller the recipe if I has to decimate the whole danged village.” Me and Magpie nods and pilgrims on to our shack. “Brotherly love seems to have come upon them,” says Magpie. “This town appears mild and full of loving thoughts. Next thing we know, Ike, these snake-hunters will be carrying autygraph albums and wish us to write—