"It's a fact; when Shotgun Dowling capers in an' allows he's about to abide with us a whole lot, he's notified to hunt another hole the first day. "'So far from you-all livin' with us, Shotgun,' says Jack Moore, who's depooted to give Shotgun Dowling the rein; 'so far from you bunkin' in yere for good, we ain't even aimin' to permit your visits. My notion is that you better pull your freight some instant. Thar's a half-formed thought in the public bosom that if anybody sees your trail to-morry, all hands'll turn in an' arrange you for the grave.' "'Never mind about arrangin' nothin',' says Shotgun; 'I quits you after the next drink; which libation I takes alone.' An' Shotgun rides away. "What is the matter with Shotgun? Well, he's one of these yere murderin' folks, goin' about downin' Mexicans merely to see 'em kick, an' that sort of thing, an' all of which no se'f-respectin' outfit stands. He wins out his name 'Shotgun' them times when he's dep'ty marshal over at Prescott. "'You must be partic'lar an' serve your warrant on a gent before you downs him,' says the judge, as he gives Shotgun some papers. 'First serve your warrant, an' then it's legal to kill him; but not without!' "So Shotgun Dowling takes this yere warrant an' crams it down the muzzle of a shotgun an' hammers her out flat on top them buckshot. "'Thar you be!' says Dowling. 'I reckons' now the warrant gets to him ahead of the lead; which makes it on the level.' "Tharupon Shotgun canters out an' busts his gent--warrant, lead an' all--an' that gives him the name of 'Shotgun' Dowling. "But at the time he comes riotin' along into Wolfville, allowin' he'll reside some, he's regyarded hard; havin' been wolfin' 'round, copperin' Mexicans an' friskin' about general; so, nacheral, we warns him out as aforesaid. Which I, tharfore, ag'in remarks, that Wolfville is a mighty proper an' peaceful place, an' its witticism with this yere Signal Service party needn't be inferred ag'inst it. "This yere gent has been goin' about casooal, an' his air is a heap high-flown. He's been pesterin' an' irritatin' about the post-office for mighty like an hour, when all at once he crosses over to the Red Light an' squar's up to the bar. He don't invite none of us to licker--jest himse'f; which onp'liteness is shore received invidious. "'Gimme a cocktail,' says this Signal person to the barkeep. "As they ain't mixin' no drinks at the Red Light for man or beast, nor yet at Hamilton's hurdy-gurdy, this sport in yooniform don't get no cocktail. "'Can't mix no drinks,' says Black Jack. "'Can't mix no cocktail?' says the Signal sharp. 'Why! what a band of prairie dogs this yere hamlet is! What's the matter with you-all that you can't mix no cocktails? Don't you savey enough?'