"Which the West is a great place to dig out new appellations that a- way. Thar's a gentle-minded party comes soarin' down on Wolfville one evenin'. No, he don't own no real business to transact; he's out to have a heart-to-heart interview with the great Southwest, is the way he expounds the objects of his search.
"'An' he's plenty tender,' says Black Jack, who's barkeep at the Red Light. 'He cornes pushin' along in yere this mornin'; an' wliat do you-all reckon now he wants. Asks for ice! Now whatever do you make of it! Ice in August, an' within forty miles of the Mexico line at that. "Pard," I says, "we're on the confines of the tropics; an' while old Arizona is some queer, an' we digs for wood an' climbs for water, an' indulges in much that is morally an' physically the teetotal reverse of right-side-up-with-care, so far in our meanderin's we ain't oncovered no glaciers nor cut the trail of any ice. Which if you've brought snowshoes with you now, or been figgerin' on a Arizona sleighride, you're settin' in hard luck."'
"Jest as Black Jack gets that far in them statements, this yere tenderfoot shows in the door.
"'Be you a resident of Wolfville?' asks this shorthorn of Dave Tutt.
"'I'm one of the seven orig'nal wolves,' says Tutt.
"'Yere's my kyard,' says the shorthorn, an' he beams on Dave in a wide an' balmy way.
"'Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' says Dave, readin' off the kyard. Then Dave goes up to the side, an' all solemn an' grave, pins the kyard to the board with his bowie-knife. 'Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' an' Dave repeats the words plumb careful. 'That's your full an' c'rrect name, is it?'
"The shorthorn allows it is, an' surveys Dave in a woozy way like he ain't informed none of the meanin' of these yere manoovers.
"'Did you-all come through Tucson with this name?' asks Dave.
"He says he does.