"'I'm one of the seven orig'nal wolves,' says Tutt.

"'Yere's my kyard,' says the shorthorn, an' he beams on Dave in a
wide an' balmy way.

"'Archibald Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' says Dave, readin' off
the kyard. Then Dave goes up to the side, an' all solemn an' grave,
pins the kyard to the board with his bowie-knife. 'Archibald
Willingham De Graffenreid Butt,' an' Dave repeats the words plumb
careful. 'That's your full an' c'rrect name, is it?'

"The shorthorn allows it is, an' surveys Dave in a woozy way like he
ain't informed none of the meanin' of these yere manoovers.

"'Did you-all come through Tucson with this name?' asks Dave.

"He says he does.

"'An' wasn't nothin' said or done about it?' demands Dave; 'don't
them Tucson sports take no action?'

"He says nothin' is done.

"'It's as I fears,' says Dave, shakin' his head a heap loogubrious,
'that Tucson outfit is morally goin' to waste. It's worse than
careless; it's callous. That's whatever; that camp is callous. Was
you aimin' to stay for long in Wolfville with this yere title?' asks
Dave at last.