"Do I ever see any folks get hypnotized? Which I witnesses a few sech instances. But it's usually done with a gun. If you're yearnin' to behold a party go into a trance plumb successful an' abrupt, get the drop on him. Thar ain't one sport in a hundred who can look into the muzzle of a Colt's .45, held by a competent hand, without lapsin' into what Peets calls a 'cataleptic state.'

"Shore, son, I savvys what you means."

The last was because I had begun to exhibit signs of impatience at what I regarded as a too flippant spirit on the part of my old cattleman. In the polite kindliness of his nature he made haste to smooth down my fur.

"To be shore I onderstands you. As to the real thing in hypnotism, however, thar arises as I recalls eevents but few examples in Arizona. The Southwest that a-way ain't the troo field for them hypnotists, the weak-minded 173 among the pop'lation bein' redooced to minimum. Now an' then of course some hypnotic maverick, who's strayed from the eastern range, takes to trackin' 'round among us sort o' blind an' permiscus. But he never stays long, an' is generally tickled to death when some vig'lance committee so far reelents as to let him escape back.

"Over in Bernilillo once, I'm present when a mob gets its rope onto one of these yere wizards, an' it's nothin' but the mercy of hell an' the mean pars'mony of what outcasts has him in charge, which saves him from bein' swung up. Mind you, it ain't no vig'lance committee, but a mob, that's got him.

"Whatever is the difference?

"Said difference, son, is as a spanless gulf. A vig'lance committee is the coolest kind of comin' together of the integrity an' the brains of a commoonity. A mob, on the other hand, is a chance-blown convention of deestructionists, as savagely brainless as a pack of timber wolves. A vig'lance committee seeks jestice; a mob is merely out for blood."

"About this Bernilillo business?"

The old gentleman, as though the recital 174 might take some time, signalled the black attendant to bring refreshments. The bottle comfortably at his elbow, he proceeded.

"I was thar, as I says, but I takes no part for either 'yes' or 'no,' bein' no more'n simply a 'looker on in Vienna,' as the actor party observes over in the Bird Cage Op'ry House. Thar's one of them hypnotizin' sharps who's come bulgin' into Bernilillo to give a show. Nacherally the local folks raps for a showdown; they insists he entrance some one they knows, an' refooses to be put off by him hypnotizin' what herd of hirelin's he's brought with him, on the argyooment that them humbugs is in all likelihood but cappers for his game.

"Thus stood up, the professor, as he calls himself, begins rummagin' 'round for a subject. Thar's a little Frenchman who's been pervadin' about Bernilillo, claimin' to be a artist. Which he's shore a painter all right. I sees him myse'f take a bresh an' a batch of colors, an' paint a runnin' iron so it looks so much like wood it floats. Shore; Emil––which this yere genius' name is Emil––as a artist that a-way is as good as jacks-up before the draw.

"The hypnotic professor runs his eye over 175 the audjence. In a moment he's onto Emil, an' begins to w'irl his hypnotic rope. It's Emil bein' thin an' weakly an' bloodless, I reckon, that attracts him. This yere Emil ain't got bodily stren'th to hold his own ag'in a high wind, an' the professor is on at a glance that, considered from standp'ints of hypnotism, he ought to be a pushover.

"Emil don't hone to be no subject, but them Bernilillo hold-ups snatches onto him in spite of his protests, an' passes him up onto the stage to the professor. They're plenty headlong, not to say boorish, them Bernilillo ruffians be; speshully if they've sot their hearts on anythin', an' pore Emil stands about the same show among 'em as a cottontail rabbit among a passel of owls.

"For myse'f, I allers adheres to a theery that what follows is to be laid primar'ly to the door of the Bernilillo pop'lace. Which it's themselves, not the professor, they'd oughter've strung up. You see this Emil artist person blinks out onder the spells of the professor, an' never does come to no more. The professor hypnotizes Emil, but he can't onhypnotize him. Thar he sets as dead as Davy Crockett.

"This yere Emil bein' shore dead, Bernilillo sent'ment begins to churn an' wax active. Thar ain't a well-conditioned vig'lance committee between the Pecos an' the Colorado which, onder the circumstances, would have dreamed of stretchin' that professor. What he does, them Bernilillo dolts forces him to do. As for deceased, his ontimely evaporation that a-way is but the frootes of happenstance.

"What cares the Bernilillo pop'lace, wolf hungry for blood? In the droppin' of a sombrero they've cinched onto the professor, an' the only question left open is whether they'll string him up to the town windmill or the sign in front of the First National Bank.

"While them Bernilillo wolves is howlin' an' mobbin' an' millin' 'round the professor––who himse'f is scared plumb speechless an' is as white as a lump of chalk––relief pushes to the front in most onexpected shape. It's a kyard sharp by the name of Singleton, otherwise called the Planter, who puts himse'f in nom'nation to extricate the professor.

"Climbin' onto the top step in front of the bank, the Planter lifts up his voice for a hearin'.

"'Folks!' he shouts, 'I'm in favor of this yere lynchin' like a landslide. But, all the same, thar's a bet we overlooks. It's up to us not only to be jest, but to be gen'rous. This yere murderer, who's done blotted out the only real artist I ever meets except myse'f, has a wife down to the hotel. As incident to these festiv'ties she's goin' to be a widow. Is it for the manhood an' civic virchoo of Bernilillo to leave a widow of its own construction broke an' without a dollar? I hears the incensed echoes from the Black Range roarin' back in scornful accents "No!" Sech bein' the sityooation, as preelim'nary to this yere hangin' I moves we takes up a collection for that widow. Yere's a fifty to 'nitiate the play'––at this p'int the Planter throws a fifty-dollar bill into his hat––'an' as I passes among you I wants every sport to come across, lib'ral an' free, an' prove to the world lookin' on that Bernilillo is the band of onbelted philanthropists which mankind's allers believed.

"Hat in hand, same as if it's a contreebution box an' he's passin' the platter in church, the Planter begins goin' in an' out through the multitood like a meadowlark through standin' 178 grass. That is, he starts to go in an' out; but, at the first motion, that entire lynchin' party exhales like mist on the mornin' mountains. It's the same as flappin' a blanket at a bunch of cattle. Every profligate of 'em, at the su'gestion he contreebute to the widow, gets stampeded, an' thar's nobody left but the Planter, the professor, an' me.

"'Which I shore knows how to tech them ground-hawgs on the raw,' says the Planter, as he onlooses the professor. 'If I was to have p'inted a gun at 'em now, they'd've give me a battle. But bein' to the last man jack a bunch of onmitigated misers, a threat leveled at their bankrolls sets 'em to hidin' out like quail!'

"The professor?

"The instant he's laig-free, an' without so much as pausin' to congrachoolate his preeserver on the power of his eloquence, he vanishes into the night. He's headin' towards Vegas as he's lost to sight, an' I learns later from Russ Kishler he makes that meetropolis more or less used up. No; he don't have no wife. That flight of fancy is flung off by the Planter simply as furnishin' 'atmosphere.'

"Wolfville never gets honored but once by 179 the notice of a hypnotist. This yere party don't proclaim himse'f as sech, but bills his little game as that of a 'magnetic healer,' an' allows in words a foot high that he's out to 'make the deef hear, the blind see, the lame to walk an' the halt to skip an' gambol as doth the hillside lamb.' Also, on them notices, the same bein' the bigness of a hoss-blanket an' hung up lib'ral in the Red Light, the post office, the Dance Hall, an' the Noo York store, is a picture of old Satan himse'f, teachin' Professor Propriety Pratt––that bein' the name this yere neecromancer gives himse'f––his trade.

"These proclamations is tacked up a full week before Professor Pratt is doo, an' prodooces a profound effect on Boggs, him bein' by nacher sooperstitious to the brink of the egreegious. The evenin' before the Professor is to onlimber on us, he shows in Red Dog, an' Boggs is that roused by what's been promised in the line of mir'cles, he rides across to be present.

"'It ain't that I'm convinced none,' Boggs reports, when quaffin' his Old Jordan in the Red Light, an' settin' fo'th what he sees, 'but I must confess to bein' more or less onhossed 180 by what this yere Pratt Professor does. He don't magnetize none of them Red Dog drunkards in person, for which he's to be exon'rated, since no self-respectin' magnetizer would let himse'f get tangled up with sech. He confines his exploits to a brace of dreamy lookin' ground owls he totes 'round with him, an' which he calls his "hosses." What he makes these vagrants do, though, assoomin' it's on the squar', is a caution to bull-snakes. After he's got 'em onder the "inflooence," they eats raw potatoes like they're roast apples, sticks needles into themselves same as though they're pincushions, an' at his slightest behest performs other feats both blood-curdlin' an' myster'ous.'

"We-all listens to Boggs, of course, as he recounts what marvels he's gone ag'inst in Red Dog, but we don't yield him as much attention as we otherwise might, bein' preeockepied as a public with word of a hold-up that's come off over near the Whetstone Springs. Some bandit––all alone––sticks up the Lordsburg coach, an' quits winner sixty thousand dollars. Nacherally our cur'osity is a heap stirred up, for with sech encouragement thar's no tellin' when he'll make a play at Monte an' the Wolfville 181 stage, an' take to layin' waste the fortunes of all us gents. What is done to Lordsburg we can stand, but a blow at our own warbags, even in antic'pation, is calc'lated to cause us to perk up. We're all discussin' the doin's of this yere route agent an' wonderin' if it's Curly Bill, when Boggs gets back from Red Dog, with the result, as I says, that he onloads his findin's, that a-way, on a dead kyard. Not that this yere public inattention preys on Boggs. He keeps on drinkin' an' talkin', same as though, all y'ears like a field of wheat, we ain't doin' a thing but listen.

"'Also,' he observes, as he tells Black Jack to rebusy himse'f, meanwhile p'intin' up to the poster which shows how the devil is holdin' Professor Pratt in his lap an' laborin' for that hypnotist's instruction; 'I shall think out a few tests which oughter get the measure of that mountebank. He won't find this outfit so easy as them Red Dog boneheads.'

"Professor Pratt has a one-day wait in Wolfville, not bein' able that evenin' to get the Bird Cage Op'ry House, the same bein' engaged by a company of histrions called the Red Stocking Blonds. Havin' nothin' else to do, 182 the Professor wanders yere an' thar, now in the Red Light, now at the Noo York store, but showin' up at the O. K. Restauraw at chuck time both rav'nous an' reg'lar. Missis Rucker allows she never does feed a gent who puts himse'f outside of so much grub for the money, an' hazards the belief it's because of a loss of nervous force through them hypnotizin's he pulls off. Not that she's findin' fault, for the Professor, havin' staked her to a free ticket, has her on his staff in the shakin' of a dice-box.

"The Professor don't come bulgin' among us, garroolous an' friendly, but holds himse'f aloof a heap, clingin' to the feelin' mebby that to preeserve a distance is likely to swell reesults at the Bird Cage door. Boggs, however, ain't to be stood off by no coldness, carin' no more for a gent's bein' haughty that a-way than a cow does for a cobweb. Which you bet it'll take somethin' more'n mere airs to hold Boggs in check.

"It's in the O. K. Restauraw, followin' our evenin' frijoles, that Boggs breaks the ice an' declar's for some exper'ments.

"'Which you claims,' says he, appealin' to the Professor, 'to make the deef hear and the 183 blind see. Onforchoonately we're out of deef folks at this writin', an' thar's nothin' approachin' blindness in this neck of woods which don't arise from licker. But aside from cures thus rendered impossible for want of el'gible invalids, thar's still this yere hypnotic bluff you puts up. What Wolfville hankers for is tests, tests about the legit'macy of which thar's no openin' for dispoote. Wharfore I yereby makes offer of myse'f to become your onmurmurin' dupe. I'll gamble you a stack of bloos you don't make me drink no water, thinkin' it's nosepaint, same as you pretends to do with them wretched confed'rates of yours.'

"The Professor is a big b'ar-built sport, an' looks equal to holdin' his own onder common conditions. But Boggs don't come onder the latter head. So the Professor, turnin' diplomatic an' compliment'ry, explains that sech powerful nachers as Boggs' is out of reach of his rope––Boggs bein' reepellent, besides havin' too strong a will.

"'As to you, Mister Boggs, with that will of yours,' says the Professor, 'I might as well talk of hypnotizin' Cook's Peak.'

"One after another, Boggs makes parade of 184 everybody in camp. It's no go; the Professor waves 'em aside as plumb onfit. Missis Rucker's got too much on her mind; in Rucker the tides of manhood is at so low a ebb he might die onder the pressure; Monte's too full of nosepaint, alcohol, that a-way, bein' a nonconductor.

"When the Professor dismisses Monte, the ground he puts it on excites that inebriate to whar it reequires the united energies of Cherokee an' Tutt to kick him off the Professor. It's only the direct commands of Enright which in the end indooces him to keep the peace.

"'Let me at him!' he howls; 'let me get at him! Does any one figger I'll allow some fly-by-night charl'tan to go reeflectin' on me? Stand back, Cherokee, get out o' the way, Dave, till I plaster the wall with his reemains!'

"'Ca'm yourse'f, Monte,' says Enright, who's come in in time to onderstand the trouble. 'Which if this hypnotizer was reely meanin' to outrage your feelin's, it'd be different a whole lot, an' this sod-pawin' an' horn-tossin' might plead some jestification. But what he says is in the way of scientific exposition, an' 185 nothin' said scientific's to be took insultin'. Ain't that your view, Doc?'

"'Shore,' replies Peets. The Doc's been havin' no part in the discussion, him holdin' that the Professor, with his rannikaboo bluff about healin', is a empirik, an' beneath his professional contempt. 'Shore. Also, I'm free to inform Monte that if he thinks he's goin' to lap up red licker to the degree he does, an' obleege folks in gen'ral to treat sech consumption as a secret, he's got his stack down wrong.'

"'Enough said,' ejacyoolates Monte, but still warm; 'whether or no, Doc, I'm the sot this outfit's so fond of picturin', I at least ain't so lost to reason as to go buckin' ag'inst you an' Enright. Jest the same, though, I'm yere to give the news to any magnetizing horned-toad who sows the seeds of dispoote in this camp that, if he goes about malignin' me, he'll shore find I'm preecisely the orange-hued chimpanzee to wrop my prehensile tail around him an' yank him from his limb.'

"'Aside from aidin' the deef an' the blind,' says the Professor, ignorin' Monte utter an' 186 addressin' himse'f to Boggs an' the public gen'ral, 'my ministrations has been found eff'cacious wharever the course of troo love has not run smooth. I binds up wounds of sent'ment, an' cures every sickness of the soul. Which, if thar's any heart lyin' 'round loose yereabouts an' failin' to beat as one, or a sperit that's been disyoonited from its mate an' can't remake the hook-up, trust me to get thar with bells on in remedyin' sech evils.'

"The Professor beams as he gets this off, mighty benignant. Texas, feelin' like the common eye is on him, commences to grow restless.

"'Be you-all alloodin' to me?' he asks the Professor, his manner approaching the petyoolant. 'Let me give you warnin', an' all on the principle that a wink is as good as a nod to a blind mule. So shore as you go to makin' any plays to reyoonite me an' that divorced Laredo wife of mine I'll c'llect enough of your hypnotizin' hide to make a saddle-cover.'

"'Permit me,' says the Professor, turnin' to Texas some aghast, 'to give you my word I nourishes no sech deesigns. Which I'm driven to say, however, that your attitoode is as hard 187 to fathom as a fifth ace in a poker deck. I in no wise onderstands your drift.'

"'You onderstands at least,' returns Texas, still morbid an' f'rocious, 'that you or any other fortune teller might better have been born a Digger Injun to live on lizards, sage bresh an' grasshoppers than come messin' 'round in my mar'tal affairs with a view to reebuildin' 'em up. My hopes in that behalf is rooined; an' whoever ondertakes their rehabil'tation'll do it in the smoke. What I'm out after now is the ca'm onbroken misery of a single life, an' I'll shore have it or have war.'

"'My heated friend, I harbors no notion,' the Professor protests, 'of tryin' to make it otherwise. Your romancin' 'round single, that a-way, ain't no skin off my nose. An' while I never before hears of your former bride, I'm onable to dodge the feelin' that she herse'f most likely might reesent to the utmost any attempt on my part to ag'in bring you an' her together.'

"Texas formyoolates no express reply, but growls. The Professor, still with that propitiatin' front, appeals to the rest of us.

"'Gents,' he says, 'this yere's the most reesentful 188 outfit I'm ever inveigled into tryin' to give a show to. I certainly has no thought of rubbin' wrong-ways the pop'lar bristles. All I aims at is to give a exhibition of anamile magnetism, cure what halt an' blind––if any––is cripplin' an' moonin' about, c'llect my dinero an' peacefully hit the trail. An' yet it looks like a prejewdice exists ag'inst me yere.'

"'Put a leetle pressure on the curb, thar,' interrupts Peets. 'You're up ag'inst no prejewdice. On that bill, wharwith you've done defaced the Wolfville walls, you makes sundry claims. An' now you r'ars back on your ha'nches, preetendin' to feel plumb illyoosed, because some one seeks to put the acid on 'em.'

"'That's whatever!' adds Boggs; 'the Doc states my p'sition equilaterally exact. I sees your Red Dog show. I'll be present a whole lot at your show to-morry night. Also, I feels the need of gyardin' ag'inst my own credoolity. What I sees you do in Red Dog, while not convincin', throws me miles into the oncertain air; an' I don't figger on lettin' you vamoos, leavin' me in no sech a onsettled frame. Wharfore, I deemands tests.'

"'Yere,' breaks in Nell, who's been listenin', 189 'what's the matter of this occult party hypnotizin' me.'

"'The odd kyard in that deck,' says Cherokee, his manner trenchin' on the baleful––'the odd kyard in that deck is that onless this yere occultist is cap'ble of mesmerizin' a bowie to whar it looses both p'int an' edge, for him to go weavin' his wiles an' guiles 'round you, Nellie, would mark the evenin' of his c'reer.'

"Nell beams an' brightens at these yere proofs of Cherokee's int'rest, while the pore Professor looks as deeply disheveled mental as he does when Texas goes soarin' aloft.

"Little Enright Peets waddles up to tell his paw that Tucson Jennie wants him. As he comes teeterin' along on his short cub-b'ar laigs, fat an' 'round as forty pigs, the Professor––thinkin' it'll mebby relieve the sityooation––stoops down to be pleasant to little Enright Peets.

"'Yere's my little friend!' he says, at the same time holdin' out his hands.

"Later we-all feels some ashamed of the excitement we displays. But the trooth is, the Professor offerin' to caress little Enright Peets that a-way sends us plumb off our feet. I 190 never before witnesses any sech display of force. Every gent starts for'ard, an' some has pulled their guns.

"'Paws off!' roars Enright to the pore dazed Professor, who comes mighty clost to rottin' down right thar; 'in view of them announcements'––yere Enright p'ints to the bill, whar Satan an' the Professor is deepicted as teacher an' poopil––'do you-all reckon we lets sech a devil's baby as you go manhandlin' that child?'

"The Professor throws up his hands like he's growing desp'rate.

"'Folks,' he says, 'I asks, in all hoomility, is thar anythin' I can say or do in this yere camp without throwing away my life?'

"'Shore,' returns Boggs; 'all you got to do is give a deemonstration.'

"'However be I goin' to give a hypnotic deemonstration,' returns the Professor, apparently on the verge of nervous breakdown, 'when every possible subject is either too preeokyoopied, or too obstinate, or too weak, or too yoothful, or too beautiful, or too drunk? If it's healin' you're after, bring fo'th the sickest you've got. If he's blind an' his eye ain't gouged plumb out, I'll make him see; if he's 191 lame an' his laig ain't cut plumb off, I'll make him walk. An' now, gents, I'm through. If these yere proffers don't suit, proceed with my bootchery. I care less, since one day with you-all exactin' tarrapins has rendered life so distasteful to me that I wouldn't turn hand or head to live.'

"Havin' got this off his mind, the harassed Professor sets down an' buries his face in his hands.

"'Why not introdooce him,' breaks in Rucker, who's nosin' about, 'to that aflickted shorthorn who comes groanin' in on the stage last night? He's been quiled up in his blankets with the rhoomatism ever since he hits camp. Which if this yere imposter can make him walk, it'll shore be kings-up with Missis Rucker, 'cause she wants to make the bed.'

"'Whar's this sufferer at?' demands Boggs, takin' the Professor by the sleeve an' with the same motion pullin' his six-shooter. 'This yere discussion's done reached the mark whar it's goin' to be a case of kill or cure for some sport.'

"Rucker leads the way up sta'rs, Boggs an' the Professor next, the rest trailin'. All hands crowds into the little dark bedroom. Thar 192 on the bed, clewed up into a knot, lies the rhoomatic party. As we-all files in, he draws himse'f onder the blankets ontil nothin' but his nose sticks out.

"'Professor,' says Boggs, an' his six-shooter goes 'kluck! kluck!' mighty menacin', 'onfurl your game! I shore trusts that you ain't started nothin' you can't stop.'

"The pore Professor don't nurse no doubts. He thinks he's in the bubblin' midst of blood an' sudden death; wharfore, you bet, he throws plenty of sperit into his racket. Makin' some hostile moves with his hands––Boggs elevatin' his gun, not bein' quite content about them motions––the Professor yells:

"'Get up!'

"Talk of mir'cals! Which you should have seen that rhoomatic! With one turrific squawk he lands on his knees at the feet of Boggs, beggin' for mercy.

"'Don't kill me,' he cries; 'I'll show you whar I plants the money.'

"Whoever is that rhoomatic? Which he's the stoodent who stands up the stage over by Whetstone Springs. His rhoomatism's merely that malefactor's way of goin' onder cover.

"The Professor later offers to divide with Boggs on the two thousand-dollar reward the Wells-Fargo folks pays, but Boggs shakes his head.

"'You take the entire wad, Professor,' says he, wavin' aside that gen'rous necromancer. 'It's the trophy of your own hypnotic bow an' spear. What share is borne by my .45 is incidental. Which I'll say, too, that if I was playin' your hand I'd spread that cure on my posters as the star mir'cle of my c'reer.'"