Too Much Progress for Piperock

by W. C. Tuttle

Author of “Law Rustlers,” “The Spark of Skeeter Bill,” etc.

I never seen anything like her before—not alive. One time I found a piece of an old fashion magazine, and there was a picture of a female in that—a female that some feller drawed; but I just figured that it was all imagination with him. I take one look at this live female and then I takes off my hat to the artist.

She said she was an artist. What in ⸺ anybody could find to draw in Yaller Rock County—except guns—was more than I could see. Me and “Magpie” Simpkins was down at Paradise, setting in Art Wheeler’s stage, when she got on, headed for Piperock.

Art got one look at her and then jackknifed his four horses in trying to turn around and go the wrong direction. Magpie Simpkins never took his eyes off her. Magpie’s old enough to know better, but he didn’t seem to. Art’s eyes don’t foller the road much, with the result that he runs a front wheel off Calamity grade and danged near sends us all to our final destination.

She said her name was Henrietta Harrison. Art pulls up for a breathing spell at Cottonwood Crick, and we stops in the shade of a tree. She looks at the big tree and then she says—

“Under the greenwood tree