“It is dreadful––dreadful!” says the little man. And then he wanted to know how the shooting begun.
“The dispute that has come to this doubly fatal ending,” says Santa Fé, shaking his head sorrowful, “related to cock-tails. In what I am persuaded was a purely jesting 183 spirit, Brother Green cast aspersions upon Brother Michael’s skill as a drink-mixer. The injustice of his remarks, even in jest, aroused Brother Michael’s hot Celtic nature and led to a retort, harshly personal, that excited Brother Green’s anger––and from words they passed quickly to a settlement of the matter with their guns. However, as the fight was conducted by both of them in an honorable manner, and was creditable equally to their courage and to their proficiency in the use of arms, it is now a back number and we may discharge it from our minds. Moreover, my dear sir, our little domestic difficulties must not be suffered to interfere with the duties of hospitality. It is high time that you should have your supper; and I even venture to ask that you will hurry your meal a little––to the end that you may have opportunity, before the departure of your train this evening, to see something of the brighter side of our little town. After this sombre scene, you will find, I trust, agreeable mental refreshment in witnessing––perhaps even in participating in––our friendly card-playing, 184 and in taking part with us in our usual cheerful evening dance. By your leave, Brother Wood, I will seat myself on the rear of your buck-board and drive along with you into town.”
The little man was too jolted to say anything––and up Charley hiked on the back of the buck-board, and away they went down the road. The rest followed on after: with the Hen holding fast to Kerosene, and Kerosene yelling for all she was worth; and behind come some of the boys toting Blister’s corpse––with Blister swearing at ’em for the way they had his legs twisted, and ending by kicking loose and making a break by the shortcut back of the freight-house for home. The other corpse––seeing the way Blister was monkeyed with––stood off the ones that wanted to carry him, allowing he’d be more comfortable if he walked.
When the buck-board got down to the deepo the little man said he felt sickish––not being used to such goings-on––and didn’t care much for eating his supper; and he 185 said he thought likely he’d be better if he had a brandy-and-soda to settle his insides. So him and Santa Fé went across to the Forest Queen to get it––and the first thing they struck was Blister, come to life again, behind the bar!
Santa Fé hadn’t counted on that card coming out––but he shook one to meet it down his sleeve, and played it as quick as he knowed how. “Ah, Patrick,” says he, “so you have taken your poor brother’s place.” And to the little man, who was staring at Blister like a stuck pig, he says: “They were twin brothers, sir, this gentleman and the deceased––and, as you see, so alike that few of their closest friends could tell them apart.”
“It was worse than that,” says Blister, following right along with the same suit. “Only when one of us was drunk and the other sober, and that way there being a difference betwane us, could we tell our own selves apart––and indade I’m half for thinking that maybe it’s meself, and not poor Mike, that’s been killed by Nosey Green this 186 day. But whichever of us it is that’s dead, it’s a domn good job––if your Reverence will excuse me saying so––the other one of us has made of Nosey: bad luck to the heart and lights of him, that are cooking this blessed minute in the hottest corner of hell!”
“Tut! Tut! Brother Patrick,” says Santa Fé, speaking friendly but serious. “You know how strongly I feel about profanity––even when, as in the present instance, justly aroused resentment lends to it a colorable excuse. And also, my dear brother, I beg you to temper with charity your views as to Brother Green’s present whereabouts. It is sufficient for all purposes of human justice that he has passed away. And now, if you please, you will supply our visitor, here––whose nerves not unnaturally are shaken by the tragic events of the past hour––with the brandy-and-soda that I am satisfied he really needs. In that need, my own nerves being badly disordered, I myself share; and as the agonizing loss that you have suffered has put a still more severe strain upon your nerves, 187 Brother Patrick, I beg that you will join us. The drinks are on me.”
“Sure your Reverence has a kind heart in you, and that’s the holy truth,” says Blister. “It’s to me poor dead brother’s health I’ll be drinking, and with all the good-will in the world!”
They had another after that; and then Blister said there was luck in odd numbers, and he wanted to show Palomitas knowed how to be hospitable to strangers, and they must have one on the bar. They had it all right, and by that time––having the three of ’em in him––the little man said he was feeling better; but, even with his drinks to help him, when he come to eating his supper he didn’t make out much of a meal. He seemed to be all sort of dreamy, and was like he didn’t know where he was.