"Monte nacherally raises his eyes. Thar's that Bar-8 feline, half-crouched, glarin' down on him with green eyes, big as moons.
"That settles it.
"Monte gives a yell which they hears in Red Dog. Wharupon the bobcat, takin' it for a threatenin' deemonstration, onfolds in an answerin' yell, an' makes a scramblin' jump at Monte's head. Shore, he don't land none, bein' brought up short, like a roped pony. Thar he swings, cussin' an' spittin' an' clawin', as mad as a drunken squaw, an' begins all over to hang himse'f afresh.
"Monte?
"That victim of appetite falls to the floor as dead an' flat as a wet December leaf.
"Actin' on them instructions, Tutt an' Texas picks Monte up an' packs him across to Peets, who, after fussin' over him for mebby an hour, brings him round s'fficient so he goes from one convulsion into another, in what you-all might deescribe as an endless chain of fits. Thar's nothin' to it; Peets is indoobitable the best equipped drug sharp that ever breaks loose in Arizona. At that, while Monte lives, he don't but jest. He's shore close enough at one time to kingdom come to hear the singin'.
"For two weeks Monte's boilin' an' boundin' round in his blankets, Texas an' Tutt, feelin' a heap reemorseful, standin' watch and watch. It's decided that no more attempts to reform him will be made, him bein'––accordin' to Peets––too far gone that a-way.
"'He's plumb onreform'ble,' explains Peets; 'whiskey's got to be so much a second nacher with him, that the only way you-all could cure him now is kill him.'
"By way of partial rep'ration for what he 119 suffers, as soon as Monte can ag'in move about, Enright calls a meetin' of the camp, an' dooly commissions him 'Offishul Drunkard,' with a absoloote an' non-reevok'ble license to go as far as he likes.