V
HOW THE MOCKING BIRD WAS WON
"Myst'ries?
"We lives surrounded by 'em. Look whar you will, nacher has a ace buried. Take dogs, now: Why is it when one of 'em, daylight or dark, cuts the trail of a anamile, he never makes the fool mistake of back-trackin' it, but is shore to run his game the way it's movin'? There must be some kind of head-an'-tail to the scent, that a-way, to give the dog the hunch. Myst'ry!––all myst'ry! The more a gent goes messin' 'round for s'lootions, the more he's taught hoomility an' that he ain't knee-high to toads.
"An' yet when it comes to things myster'ous everything else is bound to go to the diskyard compared to a lady's heart. Of course, I speaks only in a sperit of philos'phy, an' not as one who's suffered. I never myse'f am able pers'nal to approach closter to a lady's heart than across the street. Peets once reemarks 124 that all trails leads to Rome. In that business of trails a lady's heart has got Rome left standin' sideways. Not only does every trail lead tharunto, but thar's sech a thing as goin' cross-lots. Take gettin' in love; thar's as many ways as cookin' eggs. While you'll see gents who goes skallyhootin' into that dulcet condition as straight as a arrer, thar's others who sidles in, an' still others who backs in. I even knows a boy who shoots his way in.
"Which the lady in this case is the Mockin' Bird. That Mockin' Bird maiden has wooers by onbounded scores, but holds herse'f as shy an' as much aloof as if she's a mountain sheep. Not one can get near enough to her to give her a ripe peach. Along comes the eboolient Turkey Track, bulges headlong into her dest'nies, takes to menacin' at her with a gun an', final, to bombardin' her outright, an'––love an' heart an' hand––she comes a-runnin'.
"Wolfville's without that last evidence of advancement, a callaboose. It bein' inconvenient to shoot up or lynch everybody who infringes our rooles, Jack Moore invents a convincin' but innocuous punishment for minor offenders. Endorsed by Enright, he established 125 a water trough––it's big enough to swim a dog––over by the windmill; an' when some perfervid cow-puncher, sufferin' from a overdose of nosepaint, takes to aggravatin' 'round Moore swashes him about in the trough some profoose, ontil he gives his word to live a happier an' a better life.
"It's like magic the way that water trough works. No matter how gala some pronghorn of a cowboy may feel, it shore lets the whey out of him. Given the most voylent, it's only a matter of minutes before he's soaked into quietood. Enright himse'f says Moore's entitled to a monyooment for the idee.
"Turkey Track's name is Ford, Tom Ford, but workin' that a-way for the Turkey Track outfit he nacherally gets renamed for the brand. Turkey Track an' two boon companions has been goin' to an' fro from the Red Light to the Dance Hall, ontil by virchoo of a over-accumyoolation of licker they're beginnin' to step some high. Also, they takes to upliftin' their tired souls with yells, an' blazin' away at froote cans with their six-shooters.
"It gets so that Enright tells Moore to give 'em a call-down.