"Thar ain't no ondertakers, so we rounds up the outfit, an' knowin'
he'd take a pride in it, an' do the slam-up thing, we puts in Doc
Peets to deal the game unanimous.

"'Gents,' he says, as we-alls turns into the Red Light to be
refreshed, 'in assoomin' the present pressure I feels the
compliments paid me in the seelection. I shall act for the credit of
the camp, an' I needs your help. I desires that these rites be a
howlin' vict'ry. I don't want people comin' 'round next week
allowin' thar ain't been no funeral, an' I don't reckon much that
they will. We've got the corpse, an' if we gets bucked off now it's
our fault.'

"So he app'ints Old Monte an' Dan Boggs to go for a box for Jack,
an' details a couple of niggers from the corral to dig a tomb.

"'An' mind you-alls,' says Peets, `I wants that hole at least a mile
from camp. In order to make a funeral a success, you needs distance.
That's where deceased gets action. It gives the procession a chance
to spread an' show up. You can't make no funeral imposin' except
you're plumb liberal on distances.'

"It all goes smooth right off the reel. We gets a box an' grave
ready, an' Peets sticks up a notice on the stage-station door,
settin' the excitement for third-drink time next day. Prompt at the
drop of the hat the camp lets go all holds an' turns loose in a body
to put Jack through right. He's laid out in splendid shape in the
New York Store, with nothin' to complain of if he's asked to make
the kick himse'f. He has a new silk necktie, blue shirt an' pearl
buttons, trousers, an' boots. Some one--Benson Annie, I reckons--has