"'But Cherokee,' whispers Faro Nell, from where she's clost by his side, 'if thar's somethin' I desires a whole lot, an' is doin' my level best to deserve an' keep it all my life, do you-all reckon now that Providence ups an' throws me down?' "'Not you, Nell,' says Cherokee, as he smiles on Faro Nell, an' kind o' surreptitious pats her har; 'not you. Providence guides your game an' guarantees it. I'm only discussin' of men. It's one of the best things about both Providence an' woman, an' to the credit of all concerned, that they allers agrees--allers goes hand in hand.' "'An' that last utterance is a fact,' observes Dave Tutt, who's been interested deep. 'When I first weds Tucson Jennie that time, I doubts them tenets. That's over a year ago, an' you bet I'm settin' yere to-day in possession of a new faith. It takes time to teach me, but I now sees that Tucson Jennie's the onfalterin' mouth-piece of eternal trooth; the full partner of Providence, a-holdin' down the post of lookout; an' that when she sets forth things, them things is decreed an' foreordained.'" And now my friend lapsed into silence and began to reload his pipe. "I used to smoke Lone Jack out on the plains," he murmured, "or mebby Frootes an' Flowers; but I don't know! I figgers this yere Bull Durham's got more force of char'cter." Then came more silence. But the night was young; I was disposed to hear further of Wolfville and its worthy citizens. My readiest method was to put forth a question. "But how about yourself?" I asked. "Do you, like Hall and Boggs, believe that Heaven especially interferes with the plans of man; or that a challenge, direct or otherwise, to the Powers Above, is liable to earn reply?" "I states ag'in," he retorted, puffing a calmative cloud the while, "I states ag'in: Thar's no sooperstition ridin' the ranges of my breast. Yet I sees enough in a long an' more or less eventful life-- not to say an ill-employed life--to know that Providence packs a gun; an', as more than one scoffer finds out, she don't go heeled for fun. Thar's that Gene Watkins, who gets killed by lightnin' over by the Eagle Claw that time; downed for blasphemin', he is." "Let me hear about this Watkins," I urged; "no one is more interested in the doings of Providence than I." "Which from what little I notes of you," he observed, regarding me with a glance of dubious, sour suspicion, "you-all shore ought to be. An' I'll tell you one thing: If Providence ever gets wearied of the way you acts--an' it ain't none onlikely--you might as well set in your chips an' quit.