"Enright--an' thar never is the gent who gets ahead of that old silver tip--takin' the word from Peets in advance, sends over to Tucson for a coffin as fine as the dance-hall piano, an' it comes along in the stage ahead of Billy's mother. When she does get thar, Billy's all laid out handsome an' tranquil in the dinin'-room of the O. K. Restauraw, an' the rest of us is eatin' supper in the street. It looks selfish to go crowdin' a he'pless remainder that a-way, an' him gettin' ready to quit the earth for good; so the dinin'-room bein' small, an' the coffin needin' the space, the rest of us vamoses into the causeway, an' Missis Rucker is dealin' us our chuck when the stage arrives. "Thar's a adjournment prompt, however, an' we-all goes over to cheer up Whiskey Billy's mother when she gets out. Enright leads off, an' the rest trails in an' follows his play, shakin' the old lady's hand an' givin' her the word what a success her boy is while he lives, an' what a blow it is when he peters. It comes plumb easy, that mendacity does, for, as Texas Thompson surmises, she is shorely the beautifulest old lady I ever sees put a handkerchief to her eyes. "'Don't weep, marm,' says Enright. 'This yere camp of Wolfville, knowin' Willyum an' his virchoos well, by feelin' its own onmeasured loss, puts no bound'ries on its sympathy for you.' "'Death loves a shinin' mark, marm,' says Doc Peets, as he presses the old lady's hand an' takes off his hat, 'an' the same bein' troo, it's no marvel the destroyer experiments 'round ontil he gets your son Willyum's range. We're like brothers, Willyum an' me, an' from a close, admirin' friendship which extends over the year an' a half since he leaves you in the States, I'm shore qualified to state how Willyum is the brightest, bravest gent in Arizona.' "An' do you know, son, this yere, which seems a mockery while I repeats it now, is like the real thing at the time! I'm a coyote! if it don't affect Texas Thompson so he sheds tears; an' Dan Boggs an' Tutt an' Moore an' Cherokee Hall is lookin' far from bright about the eyes themse'fs. "We-all goes over to the O. K. House, followin' the comin' of the stage, an' leads the old gray mother in to the side of her son, an' leaves her thar. Enright tells her, as we turns cat-foot to trail out so she won't be pestered by the presence of us, as how Peets'll come back in a hour to see her, an' that as all of us'll be jest across the street, it'll be plenty easy to fetch us if she feels like company. As we starts for the Red Light to get somethin' to cheer us up, I sees her where she 's settin' with her arm an' face on the coffin. "It's great work, though, them lies we tells; an' I notes how the mother's pride over what a good an' risin' sport her son has been, half-way breaks even with her grief.