"Half-way to Boot Hill Boggs spurs up on the nigh flank of Boomerang.
"'Yere's whar we puts a little verve into this thing!' he roars; an' pullin' his guns he begins shakin' the loads out of 'em like roman candles.
"Wolfville an' Red Dog, every gent follows Boggs' example. It sounds like a battery of gattlings, the whole punctchooated by a whirlwind of 'Whoops!' that'd have backed a war party of Apaches over a bluff. They almost hears us in Tucson.
"Old Boomerang reesponds noble to Boggs's six-shooters. They was the preecise kind of encouragement he's been waitin' for, an' onder their inspiration he t'ars by Toobercloses like a thrown lance. We sweeps on to Boot Hill, makin' a deemoniac finish, old Boomerang leadin' by the len'th of the hearse.
"Nobody's hurt, onless you wants to count that hectic bandit from Albuquerque. After he's beat cold, Toobercloses gets tangled up accidental in a mesquite bush, the quill-wheel swaps eends with itse'f, an' the hectic Albuquerque bandit lands head on in a bunch of cactus. He's shore a spectacle; an' Peets says 311 private that for a while thar's hopes he'll die. As for the parson, who's the sorest divine in Arizona, he allows that the only bet he ever knows prov'dence to overlook is not breakin' the hectic bandit's neck.
"Nacherally, the Red Dogs feels some grouchy at the way things has gone, an' while they gives up their orig'nal thought of lynchin' the hectic bandit, they're plenty indignant at him for turnin' old Holt's fooneral into a hoss race. It ain't old Holt that's frettin' 'em so much as that they feels like it's a disgrace on their camp.
"This yere Red Dog feelin' prodooces a onlooked for effect. They goes gloomin' an' glowerin' 'round, an' talkin' to themselves to sech a hostile extent it ups an' scares the Turner person. Plumb timid by nacher, he gets afraid the Red Dogs' indignation'll incloode him final, an' eend by drawin' their horns his way. It's no use tryin' to ca'm him. Argyooment, reemonstrance, even a promise to protect him with our lives, has no effect. The Turner person, in a last stampede of his nerve, is for dustin' back to Missouri––him an' his Peggy bride. He says it's more peaceful, 312 more civ'lized thar, which shore strikes us as a heap jocose. In the end, however, we has to let him go.
"The hearse?
"We keeps the hearse, that an' Boomerang; Armstrong's uncle buys 'em. He says he don't aim to be sep'rated none from the only hearse within a hundred miles, an' him on the verge of the grave.