“Come, Old Negotiate, let me interdoose yer ter my pertickler friend, Cap’n Corduroy, o’ Calamity City, up ther mountains,” cried a tipsy idler, whose friendship with the “captain” had begun but half an hour before and increased according to the treats he had received at his hands.
Old Negotiate accepted the outstretched hand of the man in corduroys, who then presented him to his four pards from Calamity City.
Captain Corduroy, it was evident, wanted to win the favor of the denizens of Border City, and he sought the hearts of the masses by filling their stomachs with liquor at his own expense.
“I understand this is called the Cody Hotel, in honor of that desperado, Buffalo Bill?” said Captain Corduroy, addressing Old Negotiate.
The latter turned and laid his hand upon the captain’s shoulders and said, with solemnity:
“Stranger, this house were named in honor o’ Buffalo Bill; but don’t you whistle out no such word as desperado whar that clean-grit white man are concerned, or thar’ll be trouble.”
“You don’t mean thet he will cause me trouble?”
“I does mean that, and more.”
“What more?”