Faro Nell and Her Friends by Alfred Henry Lewis

Author:Alfred Henry Lewis [Lewis, Alfred Henry]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-02-28T00:56:58.203000+00:00

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VIII

THAT TURNER PERSON

"Talk of your hooman storm-centers an' nacheral born hubs of grief," observed the old cattleman, reminiscently; "I'm yere to back that Turner person ag'inst all competitors. Not but what once we're onto his angles, he sort o' oozes into our regyards. His baptismal name is 'Lafe,' but he never does deerive no ben'fit tharfrom among us, him behavin' that eegregious from the jump, he's allers referred to as 'that Turner person.'

"As evincin' how swift flows the turbid currents of his destinies, he succeeds in focusin' the gen'ral gaze upon him before he's been in camp a day. Likewise, it's jest as well Missis Rucker herse'f ain't present none in person at the time, or mighty likely he'd have focused all the crockery on the table upon him, which you can bet your last peso wouldn't have proved no desid'ratum. For while Missis Rucker ain't what I calls onusual peevish, for a lady to set thar quiet an' be p'inted to by some onlicensed boarder as a Borgia, that away, would be more'n female flesh an' blood can b'ar.

"It's like this. The Turner person comes pushin' his way into the O. K. Restauraw along with the balance of the common herd, an' pulls a cha'r up ag'inst the viands with all the confidence of a oldest inhab'tant. After grinnin' up an' down the table as affable as a wet dog, he ropes onto a can of airtights, the same bein' peaches. He he'ps himse'f plenty copious an' starts to mowin' 'em away.

"None of us is noticin' partic'lar, bein' engaged on our own hook reachin' for things, when of a sudden he cuts loose a screech which would have knocked a bobcat speechless.

"'I'm p'isened!' he yells; 'I'm as good as dead right now!'

"Followin' this yere fulm'nation, he takes to dancin' stiff-laiged, meanwhile clutchin' hold of the buckle on his belt.

"Thar should be no dissentin' voice when I states that, at a crisis when some locoed maverick stampedes a entire dinin' room by allowin' he's been p'isened, prompt action should be took. Wharfore it excites no s'rprise when Jack Moore, to whom as kettle-tender for the Stranglers all cases of voylance is ex officio put up, capchers the ghost-dancin' Turner person by the collar.

"'Whatever's the meanin' of this midprandial excitement?' demands Jack. 'Which if these is your manners in a dinin' room, I'd shore admire to see you once in church.'

"'I'm p'isened!' howls the Turner person, p'intin' at the airtights. 'It's ptomaines! I'm a gone fawnskin! Ptomaines is a center shot!'

"None of us holds Rucker overhigh, an' yet we jestifies that husband's action. Rucker's headin' in from the kitchen, bearin' aloft a platter of ham an' cabbage. He arrives in time to gather in the Turner person's bluff about 'ptomaines,' an' onderstands he's claimin' to be p'isened. Shore, Rucker don't know what ptomaines is, but what then? No more does the rest of us, onless it's Peets, an' he's over to Tucson. As I freequently remarks, the Doc is the best eddicated sharp in Arizona, an' even 'ptomaines' ain't got nothin' on him.

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