reedic'lous Pistol, the milk-white steer.

"I beholds it all; Falstaff is comin'; only bein' a dark brown I
can't yet pick him out o' the bresh. Prince Hal has travelled over
to Long's Canyon an' told the giant Falstaff how Hotspur jumps into
the Caliente an' puts it all over him that a-way. Falstaff is
lumberin' over--it's a journey of miles--to put this redundant
Hotspur back on his reservation. Prince Hal, bein' warm, lively an'
plumb zealous to recover his valley, is nacherally a quarter of a
mile ahead of Falstaff.

"It's allers a question with me why this yere foolhardy Hotspur
don't stampede out for safety. But he don't; he stands thar lookin'
onusual limp, an' awaits his fate. Prince Hal don't rush up an'
mingle with Hotspur; he's playin' a system an' he don't deviate
tharfrom. lie stands off about fifty yards, callin' Hotspur names,
an' waitin' for Falstaff to arrive.

"An' thar's a by-play gets pulled off. This ranikaboo Pistol, who
couldn't fight a little bit, an' who's caperin' along ten rods in
the lead of Falstaff, gets the sudden crazy-boss notion that he'll
mete out punishment to Hotspur himse'f, an' make a reputation as a
war-eagle with his pard an' patron, Falstaff. With that, Pistol
curves his tail like a letter S, and, lowerin' his knittin'-needle
horns, comes dancin' up to Hotspur. The bluff of this yere ignoble
Pistol is too much. Hotspur r'ars loose an' charges him. This
egreegious Pistol gets crumpled up, an' Hotspur goes over him like a
baggage wagon. The shock is sech that Pistol falls over a wash-bank;
an' after swappin' end for end, lands twenty feet below with a groan
an' a splash in the Caliente. Pistol is shorely used up, an' crawls