"'That's whatever!' coincides his pard; 'an' moreover this ain't our
round-up nohow.'

"It's in that fashion these private citizens adjusts their dooty to the
state while pausin' to look on, in a sperit of cur'osity while Silver
Phil makes his next play.

"They don't wait long. Silver Phil comes out on the roof of a stoop in
front. He's got a Winchester by now, an' promptly throws the muzzle
tharof on a leadin' citizen. Silver Phil allows he'll plug this
dignitary if they don't send up a sport with a file to cut loose the
laig-locks. Tharupon the pop'lace, full of a warm interest by this
time, does better. They gropes about in the war-bags of the Virg
Sanders sharp who stops the buckshot an' gets his keys; a moment after,
Silver Phil is free.

"Still, this ontirin' hold-up goes on menacin' the leadin' citizen as
former. Which now Silver Phil demands a bronco, bridled an' saddled.
He gives the public ten minutes; if the bronco is absent at the end of
ten minutes Silver Phil allows he'll introdooce about a pound of lead
into where that village father does his cogitating. The bronco appears
with six minutes to spar'. As it arrives, the vivacious Silver Phil
jumps off the roof of the stoop--the same bein' low--an' is in the
saddle an' out o' sight while as practised a hand as Huggins is pourin'
out a drink. Where the trail bends 'round a mesa Silver Phil pulls up.

"'Whoop! whoop! whoopee! for Silver Phil,' he shouts.

"Then he waves the Winchester, an' as he spurs 'round the corner of the