"But if I ain't religious," he rambled on while he puffed at his Bull Durham vigorously. "you can resk a small stack that neither I ain't sooperstitious. Take Boggs an' Cherokee, you-all recalls how long ago I tells you how sooperstitious them two is. Speakin' of Boggs, who's as good a gent an' as troo a friend as ever touches your glass; he's sooperstitious from his wrought-steel spurs to his bullion hatband. Boggs has more signs an' omens than some folks has money; everything is a tip or a hunch to Boggs; an' he lives surrounded by inflooences.
"Thar's a peaked old sport named Ryder pervades Wolfville for a while. He's surly an' gnurlly an' omeny, Ryder is; an' has one of them awful lookin' faces where the feachers is all c'llected in the middle of his visage, an' bunched up like they's afraid of Injuns or somethin' else that threatenin' an' hostile—them sort of countenances you notes carved on the far ends of fiddles. We-all is averse to Ryder. An' this yere Ryder himsc'f is that contentious an' contradictory he won't agree to nothin'. Jest to show you about Ryder: I has in mind once when a passel of us is lookin' at a paper that's come floatin' in from the States. Thar's the picture of a cow-puncher into it who's a dead ringer for Dave Tutt. From y'ears to hocks that picture is Tutt; an' thar we-all be admirin' the likeness an' takin' our licker conjunctive. While thus spec'latin' on then resemblances, this yere sour old maverick, Ryder, shows up at the bar for nourishment.
"'Don't tell Ryder about how this yere deelineation looks like Tutt,' Says Doc Peets; 'I'll saw it off on him raw for his views, and ask him whatever does he think himse'f.
"'See yere, Ryder,' says Peets, shovin' the paper onder the old t'rant'ler's nose as he sets down his glass, 'whoever does this picture put you in mind of? Does it look like any sport you knows?'
"'No,' says Ryder, takin' the paper an' puttin' on his specks, an' at the same time as thankless after his nose-paint as if he'd been refoosed the beverage; 'no, it don't put me in mind of nothin' nor nobody. One thing shore, an' you-all hold-ups can rope onto that for a fact, it don't remind me none of Dave Tutt.'
"Which Boggs, who, as I says, is allers herdin' ghosts, is sooperstitious about old Ryder. That's straight; Boggs won't put down a bet while this Ryder person's in sight. I've beheld Boggs, jest as he's got his chips placed, look up an' c'llect a glimpse of them fiddle-feachers of Ryder.
"'Whoop!' says Boggs to Cherokee, who would be behind the box, an' spreadin' his hands in reemonstrance; 'nothin' goes!' An' then Boggs would glare at this Ryder party ontil he'd fade from the room.
"He's timid of Boggs, too, this yere Ryder is; an' as much as ever it's this horror of Boggs which prevails on him to shift his blankets to Red Dog—-the same bein' a low-down plaza inhabited by drunkards an' Mexicans, in proportions about a even break of each, an' which assoomes in its delirium treecnors way to be a rival of Wolfville.
"'Which I'm a public benefactor,' says Boggs, when he's informed that he's done froze this Ryder out of camp, 'an' if you sports a'preciates me at my troo valyoo, you-all would proffer me some sech memento inebby as a silver tea-set. Me makin' this Ryder vamos is the greatest public improvement Wolfville's experienced since the lynchin' of Far Creek Stanton. You-all ain't s'fficiently on the quee vee, as they says in French, to be aware of the m'lignant atmospheres of this yere Ryder. He'd hoodoo a hill, or a pine-tree, Ryder would, let alone anythin' as onstable as my methods of buckin' faro-bank. Gone to Red Dog, has he? Bueno! He leaves us an' attaches himse'f to our enemies. I'll bet a pinto hoss that somethin' happens to them Red Dog tarrapins inside of a week.'
"An', son, while said riotous prophecies of Boggs don't impress me a little bit, I'm bound to admit that the second night followin' the heegira of this yere Ryder, an' his advent that a-way into Red Dog, a outcast from the Floridas, who goes locoed as the frootes of a week of Red Dog gayety, sets fire to the sityooation while shootin' out the dance-hall lamps, an' burns up half Red Dog, with the dance hall an' the only two s'loons in the outfit; tharby incloodin' every drop of whiskey in the holycaust. It was awful! Which, of coarse, we comes to the rescoo. Red Dog's our foe; but thar be c'lamities, son, which leaves no room in the hooman heart for anythin' but pity. An' this is one. Wolfville rolls out the needed nose-paint for Red Dog, desolated as I says, an' holds the fraternal glass to the Red Dog lips till its freighters brings relief from Tucson. "All the same, while as I assures you thar's nothin' sooperstitious about me, I can't he'p, when Red Dog burns that a-way, but think of them bluffs of Boggs about this yere old Ryder party bein' a hoodoo. Shore! it confirms Boggs in them weaknesses. An' he even waxes puffed up an' puts on dog about it; an' if ever thar's a dispoote about one of his omens—an' thar's a lot from time to time, because Boggs is plumb reedic'lous as to 'em—he ups an' staggers the camp by demandin', 'Don't I call the turn that time when Ryder goes retreatin' over to Red Dog? If I don't, I'll turn Chink an' open a laundry.'