shows symptoms of doubt. So we capers along; Dave warblin' 'The
Death of Sam Bass' in the coyote key.

"The senoras an' senoritas, hearin' the row, would look out an'
smile, an' Dave would wave his big hat an' whoop from glee. If he
starts toward 'em, aimin' for a powwow--which he does frequent,
bein' a mighty amiable gent that a-way--they carols forth a squawk
immediate an' shets the door. Dave goes on. Mebby he gives the door
a kick or two, a-proclaimin' of his discontent.

"All at once, while we're prowlin' up one of them spacious alleys a
Mexican thinks is a street, we comes up on a Eytalian with a music
outfit which he's grindin'. This yere music ain't so bad, an' I
hears a heap worse strains. As soon as Dave sees him he tries to
figger on a dance, but the 'local talent' declines to dance with
him.

"'In which event,' says Dave, 'I plays a lone hand."

"So Dave puts up a small dance, like a Navajo, accompanyin' of
himse'f with outcries same as a Injun. But the Eytalian don't play
Dave's kind of music, an' the bailee comes to a halt.

"'Whatever is the matter with this yere tune-box, anyhow?' says
Dave. 'Gimme the music for a green-corn dance, an' don't make no
delay.' "'This yere gent can't play no green-corn dance,' I says.

"'He can't, can't he?' says Dave; 'wait till he ropes at it once. I
knows this gent of yore. I meets him two years ago in El Paso; which
me an' him shorely shakes up that village.'