"One way an' another, Tutt an' Boggs makes it cl'ar as paint to the Signal party that thar's only two chances left in the box; either he downs Texas or Texas gets him. The Signal party says it's what he calls a 'dread alternatif.' "'Which when I thinks of the gore this yere murderous Thompson already dabbles in,' says Boggs to the Signal party, 'I endorses them expressions. However, you put yourse'f in the hands of me an' Dave, an' we does our best. If you lives through it, the drinks is on you; an' if Texas beefs you--which, while deplorable, is none remote considerin' this yere Texas is a reg'lar engine of destruction--we sees that your remainder goes back to the States successful.' "The Signal party says he's thankful he's found friends, an' tharupon they-all lines out for the dance hall, where they gets drinks, an' the Signal man, who's some pallid by now, figgers he'll write them letters an' sort o' straighten up his chips for the worst. Boggs observes that it's a good move, an' that Tutt an' he'll take an o'casional drink an' ride herd on his interests while he does. "Tutt an' Boggs have got their brands onto mebby two drinks, when over comes Doc Peets, lookin' deadly dignified an' severe, an' says: "'Who-all represents yere for this gent who's out for the blood of my friend, Texas Thompson?' "'Talk to me an' Tutt,' says Boggs; 'an' cut her short, 'cause it's the opinion of our gent this rancorous Thompson infests the earth too long, an' he's hungerin' to begin his butchery.' "'Which thar's enough said,' says Peets; 'I merely appears to notify you that in five minutes I parades my gent in front of the post- office, an' the atrocities can proceed. They fights with six- shooters; now what's the distance?' "'Make it across a blanket,' says Tutt. "'An' fold the blanket,' breaks in Boggs. "'You can't make it too clost for my gent,' says Peets. 'As I starts to this yere conference, he says: "Doc, make her six-shooters an' over a handkerchief. I thirsts to shove the iron plumb ag'inst the heart that insults me, as I onhooks my weepon."' "Of course, the poor Signal party, tryin' to write over by a monte table, an' spillin' ink all over himse'f, listens to them remarks, an' it makes him feel partic'lar pensif. "'In five minutes, then,' says Peets, 'you-all organize your gent an' come a-runnin'. I must canter over to see how Texas is holdin' himse'f. He's that fretful a minute back, he's t'arin' hunks outen a white-ash table with his teeth like it's ginger-cake, an' moanin' for blood. Old Monte's lookin' after him, but I better get back. Which he might in his frenzy, that a-way, come scatterin' loose any moment, an' go r'arin' about an' killin' your gent without orders. Sech a play would be onelegant an' no delicacy to it; an' I now returns to gyard ag'in it.'