nessee tenderfoots will have to learn something about Arkansas mud; 
it fools a fellow—sometimes he may go into it out of sight and stay 
out of sight.” and added, “let’s have another drink.” I accepted 
and we downed another drink of old corn. 
The room was hot and the mud on my clothes began to dry and I 
tried to rub it off. The old Irish landlord said, “Me lad, youse better 
go outside and shake yourself of that mud; our Arkansas dogs know 
better than to shake off mud in the house.” I begged pardon and 
walked out and worked on my clothes on the board sidewalk. 
I rented a bed that night from the same Irish landlord and as I 
was rather tired, early in the evening asked him to show me to my 
room. He lit a candle and led the way up one flight of stairs to a 
room directly over the saloon and fronting over the front entrance. 
He sat the candle on a small table, which was the only piece of furni¬ 
ture the room contained except the bed and one chair, and walked out, 
slamming the door behind him. 
In the night I became sick to my stomach and got up and lit a 
candle, but when I tried to open the door I found it was locked. I 
didn’t know whether it had locked itself or whether the Irishman 
had locked it, but I didn’t care then; I was sick and something had 
to be done and done quick, so I rushed to the window, opened it and 
let her fly. 
The next morning I heard a cussing break loose down under me 
in the saloon and I could hear the Irishman say, “I will fix that damn 
greenhorn.” Then I heard hurried footsteps leading to my room, so 
I jumped out of bed and drew on my trousers and slipped on my 
shoes, taking no time to tie them, but grabbed my six-shooter from 
under my pillow and by that time the Irishman was fumbling at my 
door, ordering me to open it. I told him the door was locked and if 
there was any key he had it. At this he ran down stairs, returning 
in a few minutes with the key and hastily unlocked the door. “You 
green son of a gun, come out of there,” he bellowed. I had my cap 
and ball gun in my right hand and my grip in my left. The Irishman 
became so abusive it got on my nerves and I told him it was his fault 
and if he didn’t cut out the abuse at once I would shoot his teeth 
down his throat. The Irishman took me at my word and we walked 
to the front door of the saloon where almost all of the town’s popula¬ 
tion had collected, finding amusement in our quarrel. I explained to 
the crowd how it was the Irishman’s fault as he had locked me in 
my room. One long old Arkansasean said, “Say, lad, Ise got a hotel, 
come over with me and it won’t cost you a cent and I will give you 
a key to your room.” adding “Old John got what was coming to him 
for locking youse in. He has been in the habit of knocking the stuffin’ 
out of fellows but I sees he ain’t knocking anything out of youse. 
I believe you has got stuff in youse; where did you hail from?” 
I told him and he handed me his hand, giving mine a warm shake 
and said, “I hail from old Ten myself; my dad used to tell me DOGS 
would fight but gentlemen sometimes killed a DOG. Youse took the 
stuffin’ out of John just right; come on.” 
— 29 — 
