Both question and answer in this cry were voiced always in one, not one man crying out the question and another replying, and it made the cry seem very droll to me.
Apache Kid was thrust to the front and the crowd huzzahed again and shouted: "Speech!" And others cried out: "Tell us about Farrell's gang."
So Apache Kid stepped to the rail and raised his head, and, "Gentlemen," he began, "this is a great honour to me;" and they all cried out again.
"If it is not," said he, "it should be."
I think the majority took this for humour and they laughed and wagged their heads and looked up smiling, for more.
"When I think of how so shortly ago I merited your disapproval and now, instead of gaining that, am welcomed so heartily and effusively, I cannot but feel how deeply I am indebted to all the citizens—" he paused and I heard him laugh in his throat, "of our progressive and progressing city."
They gave vent to a bellow of pleasure and some cried out again: "Farrell! Farrell! Tell us about Farrell."
"I must appeal to the sense of propriety," he said, "for which our western country is famous. In the West we are all gentlemen."
There was a cry of: "That's what!"
"And a gentleman never forces anyone to take liquor when he does not want to, never forces anyone to disclose his history when he does not want to. The gentleman says to himself, in the first instance, 'there is all the more for myself.' In the second case he knows that his own past might scarcely bear scrutiny. Ah well! As we are all gentlemen here I know that with perfect reliance in you I can say that I had rather not speak about Farrell and his gang."